The One With The Biz
by Jana
Summary: Some child stars long to leave it all behind, others don't care who they hurt on the way to success. Chapter 26 of 26
1. 1

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

**Chapter One**

**XXXXX**

…The room was filled with teens, all between the ages of 15 and 19, all with audition lines and headshots with attached résumés in hand, all quietly muttering to themselves as they practiced the part they were trying for.

But none of them looked as sad as Monica Geller.

"You should be running through your lines," Judy Geller instructed as she fussed over her daughter's hair. "No time to get sloppy. You really need this part."

"I don't want this part, Mom," Monica mumbled in response. "This is **not** how I want to be remembered. I don't want to be remembered as 'fat Monica'."

Judy sighed, "Parts like this don't come along very often, dear. It was easier when you were little, because a fat chubby-cheeked little girl is cute. But at your age-"

"I know," Monica interrupted, "It's not so cute."

"It's a good part, Monica," Judy told her. "It'll be good for your career."

"If I have to play parts like **this** for the rest of my life, maybe I don't want it as a career."

"Stop being so bitter," Judy scolded, "And wipe that sour look off your face. You look like you've been sucking on a lemon." Monica just rolled her eyes. "None of the other obese girls seem to have a problem with this. See," she said, gesturing to the room in general, "They're all happily rehearsing their lines."

"Maybe their family members don't ridicule them for being overweight, all the while reaping the benefits of it," Monica mumbled, almost under her breath.

"What did you say?" Judy asked, but Monica was certain she had heard at least some of it.

"Nothing," she sighed, shaking her head. "I'm gonna go outside for some fresh air."

"Well, don't be long," Judy warned. "They're going to be calling people in about 10 minutes."

"I won't," she muttered, then walked out of the room.

**XXX**

…Monica had been to this studio before, though it was a few years ago. Still, it looked the same, and she recognized where she was going instantly. The vending machine room.

Food was her solace. It started when she was little, because her parents, especially her mother, seemed to like her brother, Ross more than her. As she picked up weight, it just gave her mom more to ridicule and complain about, which drove Monica to eat even more. It was a vicious cycle that continued without interruption. Food didn't expect anything from her, or bad-mouth her, or prefer Ross to her. It was just **there**.

Nearing the room, she dug into her pockets for change, fishing out several quarters and a dime. She was just ready to round the corner into the room, when she heard voices that made her stop abruptly.

"I just don't get **why** I'm always getting stuck with these roles!"

"You're type-cast."

"Yeah, no kidding! You're lucky!"

"Why's that?"

"Cause, you get all the roles where you get the hot chicks!"

"On screen and off."

"Yeah, yeah. I mean, did you see the cattle farm in there?" There was laughter, followed by a 'mooing' sound. "I don't know **how** they fit all those cows in there, to be honest!"

"Chandler Bing, you are **so** bad!" The comment was followed by more laughter.

"What is it with these, touchy-feely chick flicks, where all these homely women 'get the hunk'?"

"It's what sells!"

"But it is **so** not real life!"

"People don't go to the movies to get a dose of real life. They go to escape it."

"But, why get their hopes up! C'mon! Let's be honest with them! Why show them something that's **never** going to happen!"

"Well, you know what they say, there's someone for everyone."

"Yeah, but they're just as big a loser! Would **you** ever date one of those fat-asses in there?"

"Probably not."

"There'ya go. I'm telling you, Joe, if I get saddled with **one more** make out scene with a hideously unattractive woman, I swear I'll quit the biz!"

"Oh, please! You're **way** to accustomed to the money and attention."

"True. Still, I'm sick of these roles. If the gals were hot, I wouldn't care, but they are **always** the dog-ugly ones!"

"Melissa was kinda cute."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Just look at it this way, it's good for your career! And for gettin the babes! People really dig the whole, sensitive-guy thing. It's harder for me! Women just assume I'm a ladies man, cause that's what I usually portray."

"You **are** a ladies man." Laughter. "We better get back. It'll be time to herd the auditioners in soon."

More laughter, and all Monica could do was stay frozen in place and cry, till she heard footsteps. She quickly ducked into the woman's restroom, which was located a few doors down, then listened for their retreating voices before turning to face her reflection in the mirror.

Why did she let comments like that upset her? People made them all the time, she should be used to them, right?

But she wasn't. She wasn't used to them. They still stung.

With a sigh, she splashed water on her face, not caring that her mom would be pissed at her for washing her carefully-applied makeup away. If she had to act opposite that jerk, she didn't want the part. She didn't want it anyway.

She had to get back. She was fairly certain that the delay in getting started was because the two male leads weren't ready yet. If they were on their way, they would be starting soon. If she missed her chance, her mother would be furious.

**XXX**

…Walking briskly, she was slightly out of breath as she walked through the glass double-doors, immediately spotting Chandler Bing and Joey Tribbiani, up at the desk, talking to the director and producer of the movie.

"There they are," Judy whispered sharply to Monica as she sat down. "Just having those two in a movie, it's a guaranteed success!" Suddenly, Judy realized her daughter was breathing heavily. "What were you doing? Running?" she asked, then a scowl crossed her features. "What happened to your makeup!"

"I needed to splash water on my face and the makeup came off," Monica explained. "Look, I don't want to do this, ok? I'll go to **any** other audition you want me to go on, just **please**, don't make me do this one."

"You're being foolish!" Judy snapped, still whispering. "This is an incredible opportunity! I won't **let** you blow it! You'll thank me later!"

Monica sighed, ready to argue further, when she heard her name being called.

"Monica Geller? For the part of Andrea, and Rachel Green, for the part of Jennifer?"

Judy pushed lightly on Monica's back, urging her to stand. "Don't blow this!" she snipped quietly. "Go!"

Monica stood, noticing how beautiful the girl up for the part of Jennifer was, and how Chandler and Joey reacted to her when she approached them.

Wide smiles and handshakes were exchanged, along with pleasantries, and Monica felt awkward as she slowly neared the group.

Gary, the director was the first to acknowledge her, then the others did as well, cordially shaking her hand. She tried to smile, but she just knew it looked forced. She considered herself a good actress, except for when it came to masking her own, very real emotions.

"You look nervous," Chandler whispered sotto, smiling. "Don't worry, **this** is the easy part. The hard part is dealing with Gary every day for 12 weeks!"

"I heard that," Gary said, and everyone laughed.

Everyone but Monica, that is. She was too busy trying to convince herself **not** to run out the door.

"I'm Rachel," the other girl whispered, extending her hand, and Monica reluctantly took it.

"Monica," she whispered back. She recognized the woman, and the name sounded familiar as well, but she was having difficulties placing her.

"Ok," Gary announced, "Let's start it at the top, please."

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

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MTLBYAKY


	2. 2

The One With The Biz 

**By: Jana**

**Chapter Two**

**XXXXX**

…Monica picked at the ear of her stuffed toy bear as she lay face down on her bed.

"He just seemed **so** different during the audition," Monica shared with her friend. "It was like it was a different person."

"You're sure it was the same guy?"

She nodded. "Positive. He has a fairly distinctive voice. That, and Joey called him by name."

"Joey Tribbiani," the blond muttered thoughtfully. "Now **that's** a man I could **really** get into!"

"Pheebs," Monica laughed, "You're **so** bad!"

"I know," Phoebe stated proudly. "So, do you think you got the part?"

"I don't know," she sighed, "And I don't care. I don't want that stupid part. I don't want to have to deal with that guy five and six days a week for twelve weeks!"

When Phoebe's smile grew, Monica questioned her as to why. "You're **into** him!" she announced.

"What?" Monica near-screeched. "I am not!"

"Yeah you are! I can tell!"

"How? How can you tell?"

"Psychic thing."

Monica rolled her eyes. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but your psychic gift is on the fritz! Cause I **don't** like him! He said **horrible** things! I could **never** like someone like that!"

"Ah," Phoebe returned, "But you do!"

"Why? Why would I?" Monica challenged.

"Besides the fact that he's cute? With…" She picked up a magazine that had Chandler on the cover, that Monica had pulled out to show Phoebe just who he was, and began to read the caption below the picture, "With haunting blue eyes that have made girls swoon for years? Oh, I don't know," she teased. "I just have **no idea** what you would see in him."

"Looks aren't everything," Monica huffed. "Beauty is only skin deep. And unfortunately, his beauty stops at the surface."

"Maybe he was just joking around? Or showing off in front of his friend-slash-costar. Maybe he really **is** nice, deep down."

"Yeah, and maybe, someone like Chandler Bing would be interested in dating someone like **me**!" she snipped sarcastically.

"Phoebe, dear," Judy Geller called from downstairs, "Your mother wants you home now."

"Thanks, Mrs. Geller!" Phoebe called back, then turned to her friend. "I gotta go."

Monica nodded. "See'ya at school tomorrow."

She waved before leaving, her schoolbooks and backpack in tow, passing Monica's mom on the way down the stairs.

"Walk, please," Judy requested, and Phoebe slowed her decent.

Staring at Chandler's picture, Monica sighed as she heard the front door slam shut, her mom appearing in the doorway a second later.

"Must she always slam the door?"

Monica quickly tucked the magazine under her pillow, giving a shrug as an answer.

"We've known Lily and Frank for years," Judy muttered. "That's the only reason I **allow** you to socialize with that Phoebe. Why you're not friends with Ursula **instead** is beyond me," she added snootily.

"Because, Mom," Monica replied, "Ursula is a liar, and a thief. And she hates me and teases me!"

"But at least she **acts** like a lady."

"Yeah, it's **real** lady like to spit on someone's shoe and call them a heifer," she mumbled, moving to leave her bed.

"What dear?" Judy asked.

"Nothing," Monica said with a wave of her hand. "Why did you come up to see me?"

"Oh," Judy announced happily, "I have good news!"

"Yeah? What?"

"You got a callback for that movie!"

"What!" Monica asked, shocked. "You're kidding me!"

"You play your cards right, Monica, and this could open all new doors for you."

Monica slumped back onto her bed, stunned.

"Try not to look so down," Judy sighed. "This is a good thing."

"For **you** maybe," Monica mumbled under her breath, ignoring her mother's request to repeat what she had said as she walked out of the room and down the stairs.

**XXX**

…There were four callbacks total. Monica and some other girl for the part of Andrea, and Rachel Green and some other girl for the part of Jennifer.

Monica fidgeted in her seat, doing her best to tune out her mother's incessant babbling.

"Monica, right?"

Monica looked up to see a smiling Rachel standing over her. "Rachel Green. Remember? We were paired together?"

She smiled, "Yes, I remember."

"I think we have some time, you wanna go grab a soda from the vending machine real quick?"

"Um, ok. Sure," Monica muttered, standing and dropping her portfolio on the plastic chair she had vacated. "Be right back, Mom."

"Don't be long!" she warned.

With a heavy sigh and roll of her eyes, Monica promised she wouldn't be, then walked out of the office with Rachel at her side.

"Stage mom, eh?" Rachel asked.

"Oh, yeah. Big time!"

"Yeah, mine too. She's gotten better though, since I'm so close to turning 18. When I'm an adult, I can fire her as my manager." She laughed, "She's been peaches and cream to me ever since I threatened to cut her loose! You should try it," she suggested.

Monica just shrugged. "When I turn 18, I'm out of here, and out of this business."

"Really? And do what?"

"I want to be a chef," she replied, waiting for the inevitable chuckle to come. Everyone always laughed at her when she said that. It seemed so funny to people, that the fat girl would want to be a chef. She briefly wondered why she kept telling people, since they always seemed so amused by it, at her expense.

But, the laugh never came. Rachel didn't laugh. Not at all. Not a snort or a chuckle or anything.

Monica looked over in surprise, scowling slightly as they continued walking.

"What?" Rachel asked, noticing the expression.

"You didn't laugh at me."

"Why would I laugh at you?"

"The fat girl? Wanting to be a chef?" Monica explained, thinking if she clued the girl in, she would catch on and laugh. But still the laughter didn't come. "People usually think that's funny," Monica added with a shrug, "For some reason."

"Stupid people, maybe," Rachel said with a shake of her head.

Monica couldn't help but smile. "Hey, ya'know, it's been bugging me ever since last week, when we were paired up… where do I know you from?"

With a grin, Rachel announced with flair, "But, Mom! I don't want to take out the trash! The bags keep ripping!"

Monica snapped her fingers, the realization hitting her. "Those trash bag commercials!"

"Yep," Rachel nodded. "That's me. And you were in all those McHenry's Burger Castle commercials, right?"

"Yep," Monica nodded. "Chubby Monica. That's me. Only now that I'm not six and cute, I'm just 'fat Monica'."

She mistook Rachel's silence for unease as they neared the vending machine room, but once through the door, Rachel turned to her. "It's not that different for me. All people see in me is tits and ass. Sex sells, and I'm the commodity." She placed her hand on Monica's shoulder. "So, I know how you feel, believe me."

"But, at least people see you as beautiful. I'm a laughingstock."

"I think you're beautiful," Rachel told her, "And anyone who laughs at you is just a great big loser."

"So, I guess Chandler and Joey are losers, then."

"What?"

"I overheard them talking last week. They were calling all of the girls that were up for the part of Andrea fat-asses, and cows. Chandler mooed."

"Oh my God! You're kidding!"

She shook her head, "Nope. I was in tears."

"Did they see you?"

"No. I ducked into the bathroom."

Rachel sighed, "They seemed so nice, too!"

"Yeah, well, they're **actors**. They are good at **acting** nice." She fed her coins into the machine, pushing the button for diet coke, then stepped aside so Rachel could go next.

"Everyone always says how great they are to work with!"

Monica just shrugged. "They're two-faced."

"Clearly!" Rachel agreed. "Wonder what would happen to their careers if info like **that** were to get out!"

"It wouldn't help it," Monica interjected, "That's for sure."

"Monica!"

They both spun around, seeing Judy standing in the doorway. "They're ready for you! Come on!"

The girls both moved quickly, falling in line behind Monica's mom. "Can't stop stuffing your face for five minutes," she muttered, and Rachel looked over at Monica to see what her reaction would be.

"I wasn't eating, Mom, I just bought a soda."

"A **diet** soda," Rachel added.

"Whatever," Judy dismissed. "Just get in there and land that part!" she snapped at Monica, then gestured for her to enter the office.

"Monica, Rachel, so glad you could join us," the producer muttered with irritation, in front of the others set to audition, their parents or agents, the director, **and** Chandler and Joey.

"Sorry," Rachel apologized. "We were just getting something to drink."

The man sighed, then turned to Gary, whispering something in a harsh tone.

A man suddenly entered the office, moving past everyone and straight for Chandler, Joey, the producer, and the director. They all gathered together, chatting about something, though what, no one out of their little group could determine.

"You have **got** to be **kidding** me!" Chandler exclaimed, sighing and moving his body slightly away from the conversation. Joey then patted his back, glancing over at Rachel and Monica before returning his attention to the circle of suits.

Everyone in the room **not** in the circle looked over at the two girls, who just looked thoroughly confused.

"What did you do!" Judy whispered sternly, pulling Monica around by the arm to face her.

Monica just shook her head, dumbfounded. "Nothing," she insisted.

"Monica? Rachel?" It was Gary, the director, and they both turned and acknowledged him. "Are your managers here?" They both nodded. "We need to see all of you in the other room, please."

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

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	3. 3

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

Chapter Three 

**XXXXX**

…"What's going on?" Sandra, Rachel's mother asked, to which Rachel just shrugged.

They all entered the room, Rachel and her mother, Monica and her mother, Chandler, Joey, the director, the producer, and the mystery man that seemed to bring with him upsetting news.

"What's this all about?" Sandra asked when the door was closed.

"We have a potential problem we need to discuss," the one man said, extending his hand. "I'm Roger Schauer, and I'm Chandler's and Joey's agent."

After everyone shook hands, Judy asked, "So, what's the problem?"

"Unintentionally," Roger began, "I overheard a conversation between your daughters," he said as he looked between Judy and Sandra. "And I'm concerned."

Monica and Rachel shared looks before returning their gaze to the agent.

"Concerned about what?" Judy asked. "What were they saying?"

"I overheard them talking about destroying Chandler's and Joey's careers, by making public, damning comments **supposedly** made by my clients."

"What!" Sandra exclaimed, facing her daughter. "Why would you say something like that!"

"What the hell is the matter with you!" Judy asked Monica, equally upset.

"It's not what it sounds like," Rachel announced, turning to face Roger. "We weren't **plotting**! We were just **chatting**! She told me what they'd said, and I made a simple comment! That's all!"

"So," Roger challenged, "You **weren't** planning on divulging the conversation- the **supposed** conversation you **think** you overheard?"

"Rachel didn't overhear it," Monica stepped forward. "I did."

"What did you hear?" Gary asked.

"Supposedly hear," Roger corrected.

Monica glanced at everyone in the room, trying to avoid direct eye contact with Chandler or Joey. Joey just seemed interested, but Chandler seemed angry.

"I was heading for the vending machine," she explained, "And I stopped when I heard voices. I wasn't planning on eavesdropping, but it all just happened so quickly after that. I heard Mr. Bing and Mr. Tribbiani talking about the auditions, and how the girls auditioning for Andrea were all fat cows. Chandler called us 'fat-asses', and he mooed. And they were laughing. Then Chandler said something about quitting show business if he had to 'make out with one more hideously unattractive woman'."

The room fell eerily quiet, as Monica wiped the tears from off her burning red cheeks, her head hung low.

"Did you **see** them?" Roger asked, breaking the silence. "How do you even know **they** were the ones who said it?" he challenged Monica, causing more tears to slip down her face.

"Enough," Chandler barked. "Can't you see she's upset?"

Roger turned to him, speaking softly. "I'm just trying to ensure-"

"Shut up, Roger!" Chandler cut him off, and Roger immediately fell silent. "Wait outside," he ordered. "All of you, except for Miss Geller."

"Chandler, I don't think-"

"I know you don't, Roger. That's why you should be grateful that I keep you around." He waited for them to leave, but they all just stood cemented in place. "Go!"

Everyone startled, especially Monica, and one by one they all started to clear out.

"You don't have to put up with his shit. Remember that," Rachel whispered to Monica, then turned and followed her mom and the others out the door.

"She's right, you don't," Chandler said once he and Monica were alone, then he sighed heavily and leaned against the desk.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I didn't mean to upset anyone."

He shook his head. "It's not **you** who should be apologizing," he told her. "It's me. What can I say?" he said with a sigh, "I'm an asshole! I'm frustrated with my career and playing the same roles over and over again, and I was just being a rude insensitive prick. You ever say something you wish you could take back?" he asked, and she slowly nodded.

"I was in a weird mood, and said some horrible things I should have **never** said. Or even **thought**! There's a lot of pressure on me. A lot riding on me, and I guess I was just lashing out in frustration. It certainly wasn't personal. And it certainly wasn't acceptable."

"Will you **please** accept my apology?" he asked of her, his hands together like one might do when praying, his expression sincere and apologetic.

With a slight smile, she nodded. "Of course."

"Ya'know, I deserve to have you tell that story," he said. "You would be justified in telling people, but, can I please ask of you, **not** to tell it? It's not just my life that would be affected. A lot of people will lose money if my name gets dragged through the mud, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," she stated softly. "I had no intention of saying anything to anyone. Rachel and I were just talking."

"Well, I thank you," he told her. "And my idiot agent thanks you," he added with a chuckle, causing Monica to smile. "Ya'know," he changed subjects, "I recommended you for this part. As far as I'm concerned, you have it."

"Well, then, my idiot mother thanks you," she joked, and they both laughed.

"My mom was like that too. Fired her on my 18th birthday. She writes erotic novels now."

Not knowing how to respond to that, she just smiled back at him, and he chuckled slightly.

"Yeah, that renders most people speechless," he laughed, then held out his hands. "Hug it out?"

Nodding, she closed the gap, putting her arms around him as he did the same.

"I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot, but I'm really looking forward to working with you, Monica."

"Likewise," she admitted.

"Ok," he said as he pulled back, "Let's let the others in, before heads start exploding and brains end up all over reception."

**XXXXX**

…The rest of the audition went perfectly, and on the QT, the director and producer made it known that they liked Rachel and Monica for the roles, which made them and their moms excited. Interviewing the other girls was just a formality, they were assured, and they left feeling confident that they would be getting calls very soon, announcing officially that they had the parts.

…When the producer, the director, Roger, Chandler, and Joey were the only ones left in the room, Roger asked, "What did you say to that girl? How did you diffuse that situation so easily?"

Chandler shook his head and laughed. "You really are an idiot, you know that? Haven't you ever heard of the saying, you catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar? Yelling and making her cry wasn't going to solve anything! I apologized to her! I sweet-talked her. She was putty in my hands," he added with a sneer.

"And she **bought** that?" Roger asked.

"I'm the top grossing actor on the screen right now! You don't think I can **act** apologetic!"

"Whatever," Roger muttered. "She agreed to sign the legal document, and that's all that matters, but I'm telling you, Bing, you had better treat her like royalty during the shooting! Or you can kiss your career goodbye!"

"And then who would you mooch off of?" Chandler snipped back, patting Joey's back before heading for the door, Joey on his heels. "Let's go get plastered," Chandler suggested, and Joey nodded in agreement.

"I could sure use a stiff one, I'll tell'ya!" Joey replied as they disappeared out the door.

"I swear," Roger told Gary, "If that kid wasn't gold right now, he would be gone in a heartbeat."

"Well," the producer chimed in, "His career won't last forever. Eventually, word will get out about what an asshole he is, and how difficult he is to work with, and his career will just wither and die."

Roger laughed. "Yeah, well, hopefully not before I pay off my Porsche!"

**XXX**

…"Pretty intense," Joey sighed. "Glad you were able to fix it."

"It wasn't hard," Chandler replied. "Roger just doesn't think before he freaks."

"Should probably be careful though, next time, with what we're saying and where."

"Yeah," Chandler agreed. "Don't know **how** we coulda missed her," he laughed. "She took up half the room! I swear," he added, "I could barely make my hands meet when I hugged her."

Joey laughed along, following beside him, "Talented actress, though."

Chandler shrugged. "Maybe if she lost a hundred pounds. Let's go to The Vibe," he changed the subject. "Damon **never** cards us."

Joey agreed with an upnod and an indecipherable sound as he kept up, both heading for Chandler's BMW.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

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MTLBYAKY


	4. 4

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

Chapter Four 

**XXXXX**

**-Thirteen Years Later-**

…Monica hummed softly as she tackled a million tasks at once. It was a frazzling job, but she loved every minute of it.

The kitchen was hopping with activity, the dinner rush in full swing, and waiters and waitresses barged in announcing orders faster than her sous-chef could write them down.

"Give Tim a sec, guys," Monica requested. "He's new."

Mumbling and groaning could be heard, but Monica happily ignored it as she continued cooking. Her life was just where she wanted it to be. Sure, she didn't have a boyfriend, but she had a great apartment and a fantastic job, doing what she loved to do. She had wonderful friends, one of her best friends as a roommate, and the respect of her family and peers. Well, everyone except her mother.

Her mother carried with her, a twelve year-old grudge that she refused to let go of, taking every opportunity to remind Monica of all she had given up.

After co-starring in the movie with Chandler Bing, Joey Tribbiani, and Rachel Green, the movie was so successful, that Monica had offers pouring in, but she turned them all down. She refused to be 'fat Monica' for the rest of her life, so, she started eating sensibly, lost over 100 pounds, and as soon as she turned 18, enrolled in a well renowned culinary institute.

A top graduate of her class, all the best restaurants wanted her, and she found she had her pick of where to work.

She kept in touch with Rachel Green after the shoot, who continued with her acting career, but finding the Hollywood scene 'so yesterday's news', she decided to move to New York and try her hand at Broadway.

Interested in a change of scenery as well, and wanting to get as far away from her mom as possible, Monica tagged along, and the two close friends ended up getting an apartment together. Within the first week, Monica got three job offers, and Rachel landed a part in an off-Broadway play. Within a month, Monica's brother Ross joined them in the Big Apple, and within two months, her friend Phoebe joined them as well.

They all became an inseparable foursome, and that close-knit relationship remained a constant through hardships, broken hearts, and squabbles, for the better part of 10 years.

"Chef Geller?" one of the waitresses called out, "Rachel is here to see you."

"Thanks!" Monica replied. "Send her in."

Monica's staff had been awestruck in the beginning, whenever Rachel would come to see her, but it became such a frequent occurrence, they soon settled down and learned to see it as no big deal.

"Hey, Mon!" Rachel greeted, "Great meal!"

"Thank you," she accepted the praise graciously. "Who are we schmoozing with tonight?"

"Randy Duncan," Rachel announced proudly. "Met him today at that audition. Of **course** he asked me out."

"Of course," Monica returned with a smirk.

"Oh," Rachel gasped, "And you'll **never** guess who **I** saw today!"

"Well, if I will **never** guess, why don't you just tell me?" Monica teased, as she moved past her to get to the ingredients of the next dish she was creating.

"Chandler Bing!"

Monica froze for a moment, then tried to cover her surprise by continuing with her task, asking, "At the audition?"

"Yep! Well, he wasn't auditioning, but he was there," Rachel explained. "Guess what he was doing."

Monica exhaled sharply, as if annoyed. "I don't have time for this game right now. Just tell me."

"Testy!" Rachel scolded, then smiled, "He was the main gate security guard!" she announced with a laugh.

"Are you sure?" Monica asked, scowling. "I mean, I know he hasn't been doing anything for a while, but maybe he was **dressed** as a security guard for a **part**."

Shaking her head, Rachel told her, "No, I asked. He's the security guard, all right."

"Wow," Monica sighed. "How the mighty have fallen."

"Tell me about it," Rachel laughed. "You remember what he did to you after the movie shoot?"

"No," Monica returned sarcastically, "I got a head injury today and have selective amnesia. I can only remember my name, who you are, and how to cook."

Rachel slapped her playfully. "Yeah, yeah. Well, listen, I got a **great** idea!"

"Not so sure I like the sound of that. Every time you get **that** look in your eye, people inevitably cry."

"Wouldn't you like to see that worm cry?" Rachel asked.

With a shrug, Monica said, "I don't know. It **was** a really long time ago. He was only a stupid kid! And he sure has had enough 'punishment' for his actions, don't'cha think?"

"He brought it on himself!" Rachel exclaimed. "Don't you remember how much you wanted to make him suffer?"

"Yeah, but that was like, twelve years ago. I got over it."

"No you didn't, you're just scared."

Monica scoffed. "That's ridiculous! What do I have to be scared about?"

"Good question," Rachel said in response. "He can't hurt you any more, Mon. And it's payback time for hurting you all those years ago."

Monica stood silent, that day coming back in a rush…

**XXX**

-FLASHBACK- 

…"Listen, Chandler, now that we're done with the shoot, I was wondering if I could maybe call you sometime. You know, keep in touch with one-another."

_Chandler stared back at her for a moment, then burst into laughter. "You honestly think I want to keep in touch with **you**! Don't make me laugh! Look, my obligation of being nice to you ended when we stopped filming, what," he asked, looking at his watch, "Five minutes ago? Go back to your stable and graze with the other cows, ok, Mooonica?" _

_He started to walk away, but he suddenly spun around to face her once again. "And, by the way, don't even **think** about sharing this little conversation with **anyone**! We have your signature on a legal document blocking you from bad-mouthing me, and if you go back on it, I'll sue you so **fat**… whoops, I meant **fast**, your head will spin! Got it? Good!" he snapped, not waiting for her to answer, then turned and marched away…_

**XXX**

…That was the last time she saw Chandler Bing. She refused to go on any of the press junkets, and she didn't even go to the premier of the movie, cause she knew he would be there.

She watched interviews with him, his fake smile plastered on his face when he spoke of how much fun the movie was to film, and what a delight his costar, Monica was, and she had felt such anger for the man at that time, she would've done anything to get back at him.

But that was over a decade ago. Her anger subsided over the years, and she even took little comfort in the knowledge that his career plummeted out of existence, by his own hand.

Instead of being considered Hollywood's Golden Boy, he was soon seen as a liability, often showing up at work drunk, unable to keep to the shooting schedule, his lines far from memorized, belittling people he felt were beneath him in public.

After a while, fans caught wind of who he really was, and how he really acted, and they stopped watching his movies. Directors and casting agents wouldn't hire him. And then his agent dropped him.

He showed up in the odd commercial now and then for a while, and a couple bit parts on TV, but after time, he just stopped working, period. Assumably, he lived off the money saved in his bank account for a while, and off the few royalty checks that still rolled in, but that didn't last more than a few years, since he spent with wild abandon.

Watching from the safety of a great distance, Monica saw the fall of the man that had caused her such grief and heartache, and she found herself **not** glad, like she thought she would be, but actually pitying the man who had so much, but threw it all away.

…"Sorry, Rach," Monica finally said, forcing her head back into the present, "But I just don't care about revenge anymore. Just- just leave him alone, ok?" she asked of her friend. "Just leave him alone with his sad little life."

Rachel nodded, giving Monica a quick hug. "You're a better woman than I, Monica Geller."

"I know," she replied proudly, then shooed her out of the kitchen so she could get back to her job.

But the thought of Chandler Bing refused to leave her head, the whole rest of her shift, and she found herself entertaining an idea she knew she shouldn't.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please review!

MTLBYAKY


	5. 5

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

Chapter Five 

**XXXXX**

…Street lamps provided little light, but darkness was a friend in that moment. Monica watched the security guard shack at the main gate of the studio lot, from the safety of her car.

She spotted him easily. She would never forget his face, for as long as she lived. Sure, she was no longer bitter, but his actions had hurt her deeply, and it took her a long time before she could rebuild the self-esteem he had crushed.

It was like Jekyll and Hyde with Chandler. During the movie shoot, he had been friendly and kind, cracking jokes and inviting her and the other cast members over to his lush home for parties and such. His behavior and harsh words on the final day of shooting took her completely by surprise, and threw her into a depression that refused to lift for several months.

He was the final straw that got her out of the biz, and the determining factor in her decision to diet and lose weight. So much of the person she had become came from the short time she spent with the man she was now spying on.

"This isn't right," she said to herself, shaking her head. "I can't put myself back in that place."

She put the keys back in the ignition and turned, but the car made no attempt to turn over.

"Oh, no," she muttered, "What's wrong with the damn car now?"

The tapping on her window startled her, and she looked abruptly to the left, shocked to see the very man she had been watching standing at her door.

"Ma'am," he asked with a smile, "Can I be of assistance to you?"

Speechless for a moment, she finally got her head together enough to roll the window down and engage him in conversation.

"I don't know what's wrong," she told him. "But it won't start."

He smiled the most genuine smile she had ever seen from him, then gave a small nod. "Well, pop the hood and I'll take a look at it for you."

Dumbfounded, it took Monica a second to comply, at a loss for how to act around him.

"I'm studio security," he informed her, taking her reaction as a sign of being leery, then pointing back at the main gate and the guard shack, added, "We figured you needed help, so we drew straws."

"I see," she said in response, pulling the hood release, "And you lost, eh?"

"No," he answered. "I won." When she looked at him abruptly, a scowl of confusion on her face, he gave a slight shrug, along with a smile. "It's a slow night."

She watched him as he moved to the front of the car, pulling his Maglite flashlight out of his belt to look for the problem, acknowledging her as she exited the vehicle and joined him.

"Do you know anything about cars?" she asked, hugging herself as she stood next to him.

He laughed, "Not really, but I figured I'd give it a try." He fell silent for several minutes while he fiddled with belts and hoses, trying to see if the mechanical failure was something obvious. "So," he asked, "Out here trying to spot a celebrity or something?"

She couldn't believe he didn't recognize her. Sure, she had lost a bunch of weight, and it had been about 12 years, but how could he **not** know who she was?

"No," she answered his question. "I was actually, um, looking for my friend. Shh- um, **he** had an audition today, and I thought, if he was still here, that he might need a ride home." She lied about the gender of her friend purposefully, not wanting to bring Rachel into her flaming wreck of a poorly thought-out plan.

"Oh, ok. Well, why don't we look him up while we call a tow truck for you, cause I'm not going to be able to fix this."

"Um, o- ok," she stuttered. "Thanks."

"You ok? You seem nervous about something."

She shook her head. "I'm just worried about my friend," she lied.

"Ok, well, if he's still on the lot, we can track him down," he assured her. "Come into my office," he instructed, gesturing towards the guard shack, before shutting the hood to her car and leading the way across the street.

**XXX**

…"Ok," Chandler asked as he sat at the computer, "What's your friend's name?"

"Randy Duncan," Monica replied nervously, using the name of the actor Rachel had mentioned earlier at the restaurant. She just hoped he wasn't on the lot. It would certainly be awkward if he was, since he didn't know her from Eve.

"Ok," he said as he began typing into the computer, mumbling, "Name sounds familiar. I probably checked him in."

"Yep," he announced after a few moments, "He was here, but he checked out several hours ago."

"Oh, ok, well, thanks anyway." She started to walk away, but he called to her.

"Wait!"

Slowly, she turned and faced him. "What?"

With a slight chuckle, he reminded her, "The tow truck?"

"Oh, yeah," she smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. It's been a long day."

"Boy, I can relate to **that**," he said in response, then gestured to an empty chair. "Just make yourself comfortable until they get here, k?"

She nodded. "Thanks."

**XXX**

…Twenty minutes had passed, and still no tow truck. Monica sat wringing her hands as Chandler and the other guards chatted casually about some game that was shown on TV the night before, and the one thing that struck her about the scene playing out before her was, he seemed happy. He didn't act like a man bitter about the end of his career, or his life as it was. He seemed relaxed and confident, but not in a conceited way, like the young man she had known all those years ago.

"You're probably bored out of your mind, huh?" Chandler asked Monica, and her attention was his instantly. "Sorry we're being such typical guys," he apologized, "But it was a really good game."

"It's ok," she said with a smile, averting her eyes.

The smile slowly left Chandler's face as he stared back at her, his eyes narrowing in concentration. Monica was certain he finally remembered her.

"Have I upset you or offended you in some way?" he asked her. "You seem, I don't know, upset with me, somehow."

That was an understatement, Monica thought to herself, at a loss for how to respond. But before she could say anything, his attention was diverted.

"Chandler, look at that!" one of the guards exclaimed, pointing off in the distance. "Look at that blimp, waddling this way!" the man laughed, and Monica's blood instantly ran cold, her heart rate skyrocketing.

Then something happened that took Monica by complete surprise.

"Excuse me," Chandler snapped, "But **that** is a person with **feelings**! Got it? Good!"

He turned away and walked out of the shack, towards the woman as she struggled with her packages. Those in the guard shack, including Monica, could **just** make out Chandler offering his assistance, and her thanking him kindly.

"What's with him?" the guard doing the mocking asked the other officer.

"No one knows exactly **why** he's like this, but I do know **this**," the guard replied. "Back when he was a famous actor, I guess he was a total asshole. Thought he was 'all that', and was quite the jerk to people 'beneath him'. He eventually lost everything. His career, his fame, his agent, his money. Something must've happened, after his career hit bottom, cause **now**, he's nothing like he was reported to be."

"And you don't know what happened?" the first guard inquired.

He shook his head. "Nope. No one does. But the last guy that made a comment similar to what **you** just made, got lectured for a half hour about how **all** people deserve respect."

The guy scoffed. "Well, it's not like I said it so she could hear!"

"Neither did **he**," he said with a shrug, "But Chandler heard it. Don't get me wrong, Bing is a good guy," he added, "Just gotta watch the trash talk around him."

"So, what, he thinks he's the morals police or something?"

"I think he feels like he's paying penance or something, ya'know? For all the people he's hurt in his life."

"Ssshh," the rude guard hissed, "He's coming back."

…Monica felt like the proverbial fly on the wall, having heard the conversation that took place, all while the two people having it ignored her presence.

She couldn't help but wonder, what had happened to Chandler, to bring about such a drastic change in him? One thing she knew, she **had** to find out about the missing years of Chandler's life.

Because still, after everything he had put her through, after all the passing years, after all the effort she put forth to leave him in her past, she couldn't change how she felt about him.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please review!

MTLBYAKY


	6. 6

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

**Chapter Six**

**XXXXX**

…Monica stumbled through the door, tired beyond all reason, wanting nothing more than to just collapse in her bed.

"Monica!" Rachel exclaimed as she appeared in her bedroom doorway. "Where have you been!"

"You would never believe me if I told you," Monica muttered, kicking off her shoes, then bending over to pick them up.

With a scowl, she asked, "Did you have to work late? Get fired? Meet a guy? Get abducted by aliens?"

"Stop guessing," Monica interrupted. "I- I'm not proud of myself, but, I went to… the studio," she admitted reluctantly.

Rachel gasped. "To see Chandler? What did you say to him?"

Monica groaned as she realized she wouldn't be getting to bed any time soon. "Nothing," she told her, plopping down on the couch. "He didn't recognize me."

"What? How could he not recognize you?"

"Well, it **was** twelve years ago. And I **did** look very different then."

"But, **still**," Rachel argued, "You guys were kissing all over each other in almost every scene during the shoot. Sure, it was just your characters, but how could he **not** remember what you look like! If nothing else," she added, "He should've recognized your eyes!"

"My eyes?" Monica questioned, a scowl of confusion.

"Yeah," she clarified, "You're eyes are amazing! A shade of blue I've never seen before!"

Monica couldn't help but laugh. "Are you asking me out, Rache?"

"Oh, hush!" Rachel returned with a chuckle. "I'm just saying, is all. I mean, surely he noticed your eyes back then, even while belittling the rest of you."

"Noticing my eyes was the last thing on his mind," she said with a hint of sadness. "I was repulsive to him, plain and simple."

"Mon," Rachel whispered, ready to console her, but Monica held her hand up to stop her.

"I'm ok," she assured her. "That is my past, not my present or future."

Rachel nodded, respecting her friend's need to distance herself from that conversation.

Chandler had hurt her bad, back then. She actually thought, for a brief time, that he liked her. **Really** liked her. It often happens, where costars in romantic storylines hook up in real life. Despite the fact that Monica had overheard the horrible things he had said during the auditions, she believed him when he apologized, and sincerely thought they were making a connection during the filming of the movie.

She had allowed herself to fall in love with the man, but he wasn't who he pretended to be. His acting didn't stop when the roll of the cameras did. He continued acting, convincing Monica that he was her friend, and that he cared for her.

How wrong that was. The only reason he showed her any kindness, was because he was ordered to do so, by his agent, and the director and producer of the movie.

When it came time for the press junkets, when Monica had refused to go, they tried to strong-arm her into doing them anyway, claiming grounds for suing her, and making other such threats.

She still refused, telling them that she would not be able to hide her disdain for the man, and it would subsequently affect the film. Reluctantly, they gave her an out, promising that if she took a few publicity pictures **without** Chandler being present, they would make up some reason why she couldn't join the others on the junkets.

With a little creative editing, it looked like Chandler and Monica were posing together for the pictures that later became movie posters to promote the film. To explain her absence during interviews, the cast was instructed to say simply, Monica is having minor health issues, and we all wish her a speedy recovery.

Rachel was the one to help her through that hard time, having stayed in contact after the movie was 'in the can'. Her and Phoebe, Monica's friend since childhood became the rock she needed to get herself over the guy, and on with her life.

She had been certain that Monica was completely over him, but the look on her face that she now wore after seeing him again, caused Rachel to wonder if she really was.

"Ok," Rachel broached carefully, "Tell me what happened."

Sighing deeply, Monica began the story. "I pulled up outside the studio gates, across the street from the entrance. I saw him right away. There were two other guards with him. He seems different now," she added.

"In what way?"

"I don't know. Happy. He didn't act like a man who was angry for losing everything. He even got after one of the guards for calling an overweight woman a blimp, and then he went and helped her with the packages she was struggling with."

Surprised, Rachel queried, "Really?"

"Yeah. One of the guards said that he does that, whenever someone makes crude comments about other people, and that it seemed to **him**, that Chandler was almost paying penance, in a way, for all the people he's hurt in his day."

Rachel stared back at her friend. It was obvious to her, as she saw the look in Monica's eyes, her feelings for Chandler had returned.

"So," Rachel asked softly, "What are you going to do now?"

With a shrug, she muttered, "Go to bed. I have a busy day tomorrow at the rest-"

"No," Rachel interrupted. "What are you going to do about Chandler?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Monica countered as she stood to walk away.

"Monica," Rachel whispered, grasping her arm gently before she could take a step. "This is Rachel you're talking to. I know how in love with him you were, back then. And now, seeing him again, the feelings are back."

Monica shook her head. "I can't go back to that place, Rache. It'll hurt too much. I would like to know what happened, though," she added. "To change his heart."

"I'll find out for you," Rachel told her. "I'll make some calls, call in some favors. But, Mon, please be careful, ok? It would kill me to see you **that** depressed again. Over **him**."

A smile crossed Monica's features, and she reached out to hug her friend. "Thanks, Rache. And don't worry, I have no intention of ever seeing him again."

**XXX**

…It was a good kind of tired, he reminded himself, grabbing a beer from the fridge before dropping down onto the plush recliner. The smile he wore wasn't intentional, but accompanied where his thoughts had been.

I should've asked for her number, he thought to himself, or at least asked her name. Who are you kidding, he scolded, every woman you have ever dated either leaves you once they find out who you used to be, or is only interested in you **because** of who you used to be.

A woman that soft spoken would never go for a guy with such a past.

"Hey. 'Nother late night?"

Chandler acknowledged his friend and roommate with an upnod. "Still better than those ruthless shooting schedules," he said with a laugh, and Joey smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, don't remind me," he muttered, joining Chandler, sitting on his identical recliner. "I gotta be in at **three**!"

"Then, what are you doing up?" Chandler asked.

"It's one in the morning, Chandler," Joey reminded. "I'm up cause I have to start getting ready."

With a scoff, he announced, "That's one thing I sure don't miss."

"Yeah, yeah," Joey returned with a mocking tone. "If you could, you'd go back to it in a second. Just, no one wants you."

Chandler winced dramatically. "Ouch. You wound me, man."

Laughing, Joey stood, heading for the coffee maker to start it. "I wouldn't tease if I didn't love'ya, man."

The beer all but gone, Chandler chugged the last gulp or two before joining Joey in the kitchen. "I know. Your cuts are getting better," he complimented with a smile. "So, what's up with Dr Drake today?"

"Oh, I'm delivering twins today, but only one of them is mine," Joey announced proudly, and Chandler suppressed a laugh.

"Well, have a good delivery, then," he muttered, a yawn escaping. "I'm off to bed, to dream about that woman from earlier, if there's a God."

"Wait," Joey said suddenly, stopping his friend from retreating. "What woman?"

"There was this woman at the lot today. Her car broke down, and she waited at the shack for a tow truck to come rescue her. She was beautiful," he sighed. "Stunning."

"You get her number? What's her name?" he asked, excited for Chandler.

Shaking his head, Chandler muttered, "No. It's not worth it anymore. Doesn't matter how different I am now, the past keeps coming back to bite me in the ass."

"You can't let that stop you! You're not that person anymore! You're a good man! Anyone would be lucky to have you!"

Chandler laughed. "Sounds like **you** want to date me."

Joey shot a look back at his friend, a smirk following. "I'm just saying, is all."

"I know buddy," Chandler returned with a friendly slap to Joey's back. "Night."

Joey sighed, knowing it would be pointless to talk further. Chandler was stubborn on the issue.

It didn't matter how much he'd changed over the years, he still punished himself for the person he used to be. It made Joey sad, that others couldn't see Chandler like he did; a man with a good heart, and a sincere regret for his past indiscretions.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please review!

MTLBYAKY


	7. 7

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

**Chapter Seven**

**XXXXX**

…"It took calling in several favors," Rachel announced as she entered the apartment, "And I didn't find out **much**, but, I have information."

Monica set the book she had been reading down on the coffee table after saving her place, then stood and faced her friend and roommate.

"Ok," Rachel began, hanging her coat on the designated hook. "I don't know **why** he's all sweet as pie now, **but**, I do know **when** it happened. Five years ago, a month or so after he seemed to vanish from the party scene, he showed up at a rehab hospital. From that time on, he's been, like, transformed."

"Rehab for what? Drugs?"

She shrugged, "Not sure. No one seems to know, but he didn't seem high when we did 'A Summer To Remember'."

"Doesn't it seem kinda odd, that it's **this** hard to find out what happened?" Monica asked, heading for the fridge to get a bottle of water. "I mean, he was a big name in his day, yet, no one knows what happened surrounding his amazing transformation?"

"You know who might know?" Rachel suggested suddenly. "Joey Tribbiani!"

"You think they're still friends?"

"Dunno, but if they **are**, he would know, I'd bet!"

"Isn't he on 'Days Of Our Lives'?"

"Yeah!" Rachel said with a snap of her fingers. "Dr Drake Ramoray!"

"You have any connections **there**? Can you get into **that** studio?"

She smiled proudly, almost smugly, "Mon, I can get into almost **any** studio."

Monica just laughed. "Ok, so, Ms Importance, pull those little strings you seem to have dangling in every corner of the biz and get close enough to the good Dr to find out some info."

**XXX**

…Usually when people came and went through the gates, Chandler checked their name and nothing else. He would occasionally engage in small talk, like, how are you today? Or, nice weather we're having. But when the name Randy Duncan was mumbled as the man in the shiny red convertible waited for clearance to enter the studio, Chandler found himself going beyond simple pleasantries.

"So, Mr. Duncan," Chandler asked, "Did your friend find you ok the other day?" He wanted to at least find out the woman's name, to go with the face that refused to leave his mind.

"What?" the man asked, not curious so much as annoyed.

"Your friend was here looking for you the other day. Kinda late, too. I just wondered if you met up ok."

"What's his name?"

"No," Chandler clarified, "It was a her. Late 20s, early 30s, shoulder length black hair, light complexion with freckles, and amazing blue eyes."

"I don't know anyone by that description. Not that I would call 'friend', anyway."

Chandler scowled, confused. "Are you sure? She even had me look you up to see if you were still here."

With a shrug, he muttered, "Maybe it was a fan." Chandler started to shake his head, as much to answer with his opinion as to express his confusion, but Randy just cut him off. "I'm kinda running late, buddy. Can we hurry this along?" he asked, irritated, pointing at Chandler's clipboard.

"Of course," Chandler replied, regaining his head. "You're clear," he added, then hit the button for the swing-arm gate. The red convertible sped past without care, leaving more questions than were answered.

If the mystery woman wasn't that guy's friend, then who was she? And, better question, why was she **really** at the studio?

**XXX**

…Picking at the food on her plate, Monica seemed to be on another planet as the conversations around her skipped off her consciousness like a pebble skipping off the water on a still pond.

"Earth to Mon?"

Monica startled, realizing she was being addressed directly, and pulled herself into the present. "Yeah?" she asked her blonde friend, her expression and nonchalant tone attempting to convince those at the table that all was fine.

"What's with you lately?" Phoebe asked, curiously concerned. "You've been distant and, like, in a world all your own."

Monica looked to Rachel for a moment, silently asking her not to reveal her secret, then shrugged. "Just been preoccupied with the new menu at the restaurant, is all," she lied, standing to put her plate in the sink, having eaten surprisingly little of the dinner she had made for herself, her friends, and brother.

"Yeah, but," Ross interjected, "It seems to go beyond that. You almost seem… depressed."

Monica turned the water off abruptly, her back still to them. "I'm **not** depressed," she insisted, then spun around to face them. "What would I have to be depressed about?"

"I haven't seen you act like **this** since…" Phoebe trailed off, her eyes growing wide, and Monica avoided her gaze by turning her back to them once again, at the same time Rachel stood from the table and joined her at the sink, handing over her plate.

"Oh my God," Phoebe whispered, and Ross looked between Monica's and Rachel's back, and a shocked looking Phoebe.

"What?" he asked, trying to catch up to speed. "What am I missing here?"

"Chandler," Phoebe whispered, and Ross gasped.

"Monica?" he asked, her name the only thing he needed to say. She knew what he was asking.

"I saw him again," she admitted, her back still to them, and Rachel moved away from the counter. "He didn't recognize me, but, I spoke with him."

"When?" Phoebe asked, her tone showing how delicate the subject was.

"Two weeks ago," she answered, volunteering as little information as possible.

"Where?" her brother asked. "Like, at the grocery store or something?"

Monica shook her head, finally facing them. "At Sunset Studio."

"Why were **you** at the studio?" he asked, trying to piece it together.

"Did you go with Rachel, for that audition?" Phoebe asked, but Monica shook her head in response. "Then," she asked, "Why were you there?"

Monica glanced at Rachel, whose gaze was planted firmly on the floor before she said, "Rachel told me she saw him there, at the studio. He's a security guard there now."

Ross sighed deeply and stood from the table, moving towards the livingroom, to distance himself from the disappointment he felt.

"Honey," Phoebe asked, "Why would you go there to see him? Don't you remember what he **did** to you?"

Monica rolled her eyes. "Yes, I remember what he did to me. I was just… curious," she admitted, taking note of her brother's reaction.

"Why would you even **tell** her you saw him?" Ross asked Rachel, obviously upset.

"It's been **years**, Ross," she told him, unremorseful. "I didn't think it would be a problem!"

"But, with as hard as it was for her all those years ago," he countered, "You should have realized-"

"I love it when you talk about me like I'm not in the room," Monica interrupted. "You're making more out of this then there is! I'm **fine**!" she insisted. "I'm not depressed, just… I've been thinking a lot, recently, is all."

"About?" Ross asked, rejoining her and the others in the kitchen-slash-diningroom area.

She sighed deeply, knowing she was about to open a huge can of worms, but she was tired of avoiding the discussion. "You ever wonder **why** he was like that? **Why** he had so much hatred in him?"

"No," Ross returned instantly, his annoyance clearly expressed.

"Does it really matter why?" Phoebe asked, calm, trying to be supportive.

"It might," she muttered, shaking her head sadly. "He's **so** different now," she shared with them, "But no one knows **why**. What happened?" she questioned. "What happened to make him so mean? What happened to change him into the exact opposite of that hateful man?"

"Who cares?" Ross snapped, and the three women glared at him for it.

"I care!" Monica shot back. "Whether you want to admit it, or discuss it, or believe it, or **not**, this man is significant to me, and who I became, subsequently! I'm not in love with him… anymore," she added, the final word much softer than the others, "But, I **am** curious to know, **what** happened?"

"This will end badly," Ross warned, his tone more understanding than it was previously. "You won't get the answers you're looking for, and your heart will get broken again."

Offering him a small smile, she told him, "I know you're just trying to protect me, but I'm a big girl now, Ross." She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him to show her appreciation for his concern. "It'll be ok. Ok?"

"No, it's not ok," he whispered as he hugged her back, "But, if this is something you **think** you need to do, I'll be here for you, to help you put your heart back together when **he** shatters it. **Again**." He abruptly pulled away, grabbed his jacket off the hook by the door, then walked out of the apartment.

Monica sighed, watching him leave before turning to face Phoebe and Rachel.

"He loves you," Phoebe stated, excusing his behavior and abrupt departure. "He just doesn't like seeing you get hurt."

"But, I'm stronger now," Monica assured her, and Rachel as well. "I won't fall apart **this** time."

"If you do," Phoebe said softly, "Then we'll be here for you. Anything you need," she added, the sentence hanging with an understood subtext.

"Well, actually," Monica announced, "Since you're offering…"

With a wide smile, Phoebe asked, "Yes?"

"Can I borrow your alias?"

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please review!

MTLBYAKY


	8. 8

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

**Chapter Eight**

XXXXX 

…"I'm telling you, this will work," Monica insisted, licking the envelope and sealing it.

"I'm just worried about you, is all," Rachel shared. "What if he gets angry? Or starts to yell at you or something?"

Monica just shrugged in response.

"Are you **sure** you've thought this through, Mon? Why don't you just let me do the Joey thing, and let **me** find out-?"

Interrupting, Monica said, "I want to hear it from him directly."

"I still say it's a bad idea," Rachel sighed, "But, if this is what you want, I'll help."

"It is," Monica replied, smiling appreciatively. "And thanks."

**XXX**

…Taking a deep breath, as if about to dive into water, Monica prepared herself for her biggest acting challenge to date. She was never very good at hiding her emotions, or 'acting' around her real life, but she would need to get good at it and fast, if she was going to pull this off.

The card in hand, she slid out of her car and headed for the front gate, her confident stride faltering slightly when she saw him.

He smiled as he saw her approach, leaving the guard shack and standing within view of her.

"I see your car is in working order," he called out, and she smiled in return.

"For now," she replied, then muttered jokingly, "Stupid car."

Laughing, he asked, "So, what brings you by today? Here to see Mr. Duncan?"

Continuing the lie, she smiled as if the name held meaning to her, then shook her head. "No, I'll catch up with him later. I actually came to see you," she admitted, and she could visibly see his smile grow wider.

"Yeah?"

With a nod, she extended her hand, holding out the card for him to take. "I came to give you **this**."

"What's this?" he asked, taking it from her.

"Just a thank you," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, as if to imply it was nothing all that special. "For helping me out."

"You didn't have to do this," he told her, his appreciation showing through. After opening the envelope, he pulled the card into view, reading it aloud. "If they gave out stars for good deeds," he read the front, then opened the card to read what was inside, "You would own a galaxy." He grinned before moving on to the handwritten words she'd added below the card's words. "Ok, so, it's a little corny, but I just wanted to thank you for your help the other night, when I was stranded. Sincerely, Gina."

Finally, he knew her name. With a smile, he thanked her for the card, tucking it back into the envelope and sliding it into his back pocket. "So, your name is Gina?"

"Regina, actually," she replied. "Regina Philangie."

"Interesting name," he said with a nod.

"Yeah, well," she muttered, an embarrassed smile showing itself, "I had interesting parents."

"Me too," he admitted. "I **too** suffer from a name that makes people blink in confusion. Chandler Bing," he introduced himself, placing his hand on his chest before extending it towards her.

"A pleasure," she returned cordially, shaking his hand. She felt an instant bolt of electricity, but reminded herself straight away that falling for him again was **not** on the agenda. "So, I was wondering," she asked, putting the plan in motion, "Would you maybe want to go grab a cup of coffee sometime?"

There **is** a God, he thought to himself, then nodded. "That sounds fantastic." He reached into the guard shack, and snatched a pen and piece of scrap paper from the desk, handing it to her so she could write her number down. When she handed it back to him, his smile grew. "I'm off tomorrow, if that's good for you, Gina."

She nodded. "I'm off tomorrow, too," she told him, though that was a lie. She would have to call in sick or something.

"I'll give you a call then," he announced easily, as if confident. Truth was, he was anything but.

There was a brief nod of acknowledgement, followed by a slight wave, then she turned and walked away, back to her car. Back to the safety of being out of his presence.

"You **cannot** fall for him again," she scolded herself, under her breath.

But it was too late for that.

**XXX**

…"Mr. Tribbiani?" the eager young stage assistant addressed him, almost acting as if frightened of the man and his celebrity. "There's a woman here to see you," he informed, a crack in his voice giving away his nervousness. "She says you know her, and should recognize her name."

Joey smiled, partly because he found the young man's actions humorous, partly because he was trying to put him at ease. "What's the name?" he asked, giving him a little pat on the back to hopefully steady his nervous fidgeting.

His nerves slightly calmed by this famous man's kind and gentle way, he told him, "Rachel Green."

The smile dropped from Joey's face, but quickly came back as the name registered. "Wow," he whispered, then asked, "Where is she?"

"In the lobby," was the reply. "I can escort her to your dressing room, if you'd like."

"Please, Nate, thanks," he said, then started to walk away. "Oh, and Nate?" he called out, and the assistant stopped abruptly and turned around.

"Yes, sir?"

"Relax," Joey instructed. "I don't bite."

Nate smiled, then nodded. "Yes, sir." He ran off happily, heading for the lobby as Joey headed for his dressing room.

**XXX**

…Greeting her warmly, Joey smiled as he invited her in. "Rachel Green," he sighed. "Wow. You look fantastic."

Rachel grinned, initiating the friendly hug between them. "So do you, Dr Ramoray." She said the name of his character with a lilt in her voice, letting him know she was aware of his popularity on the soap opera.

With a lopsided grin, he dismissed her with an indiscernible sound and a wave. "I've seen you in a few things here and there," he admitted, asking, "What have you been up to lately?"

"Mostly off-Broadway plays and musicals, which I thoroughly enjoy," she shared proudly.

"That's great," he said, hesitating for a moment before changing the subject. "So, um, have you heard from Monica Geller at all?"

Rachel knew he was aware of Chandler's treatment of Monica, all those years ago, and she got the distinct impression that, at the time, he wasn't all too thrilled with the way Chandler conducted himself.

"Um, yeah, actually, I do hear from her quite a bit," she admitted, carefully choosing her words.

"Yeah?" he said with a smile, "What is she up to now-a-days?"

"She's a chef," she blurted out, seconds later wondering if she should have. It was too late to worry about it.

"Oh, that's great!" he exclaimed. "She always wanted to be, didn't she?"

Rachel nodded. "Yeah. She's fantastic, too."

"That's really great," he repeated. "I'm really happy for her. Tell her I said that, when you hear from her again," he added.

"I surely will," she said in response, spotting the opportunity to broach the subject that brought her out in search of him. "So, have you kept in touch with Chandler?"

He seemed to fidget slightly once the question was asked, and his gaze left her and dropped to the tiled floor as he gestured for her to take a seat. "Actually," he answered, "I have. We're, um, roommates."

"Really?" She was surprised by the admission, but secretly pleased. She was certain, more now than before that Joey held the answers to the questions that would finally put Monica's mind at ease. "What's he up to now? I haven't seen him in anything in **years**."

"Yeah, well, he's not in the biz any longer. Not really by choice," he added, "But he **is** a lot happier **now**, than he was back then."

"Five minutes, Mr. Tribbiani," a voice from the other side of the door informed.

With a smile, Joey pointed towards the door. "I gotta get going here, but, hey, ya'know, it was **great** seeing you again!"

"It was great seeing you again, too," she returned with a brief hug. "Maybe we could get together sometime?" she suggested. "You know, for coffee or something, and to catch up."

"That sounds great." He turned around and grabbed his dayplanner from off the desk in the far corner. Retrieving a card from one of the pockets, he quickly handed it over, pointing to one of the phone numbers on it. "That's my cell. Leave a voice mail, if I don't answer," he instructed, and she acknowledged him before leaving, her smile wide as she closed the door behind her.

The plan was working.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please leave a review!

MTLBYAKY


	9. 9

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

**Chapter Nine**

XXXXX 

…Joey stared at his script, the words already memorized, but he was looking through it more than reading it.

He stuck by Chandler, even when no one else would, because he understood him. Because he saw past the man he pretended to be, to the man he really was.

Still, that didn't excuse his actions. He knew what had been said. Chandler told him right after it happened, what had been said. But instead of speaking up, reprimanding his friend for his harsh words to a woman whose only crime was being overweight, he stared blankly ahead as Chandler sped his 'Beemer' down the road, way faster than he should have.

Shame prevented him from discussing it with Monica during the photo shoot that Chandler was asked not to attend, feeling that because he was his friend, he held some blame in what had happened. And when Chandler asked him about the publicity shoot, and asked what was said during, Joey had told the absolute truth when he informed that not one word was uttered **at all**, during the entire session.

It was as if not speaking at all was expected, due to the extreme tension the situation had created. He considered talking to Rachel about it, during the junkets, or before or after the premier, but he never could gather his courage to do so, or find the words he would use.

Not being able to excuse Chandler's actions, or explain him, he opted for avoidance of the issue, desperate to move past and away from it. And that's exactly what happened.

After the premier, he never heard from Rachel or Monica again. He had their numbers, he could've called, but he wasn't sure what he would say if he did. In time, he just forgot about them, the memory only creeping into his consciousness when someone would mention the movie, or he'd see Rachel in some show or commercial on TV.

He stood by Chandler through the years, because he knew him. He knew why he acted the way he did, and what a good person he was beneath it all. Sure, there were days he wanted to just walk away, and there were a few times he did, but he always came back. Chandler needed him. That's what he told himself.

And it was true. Chandler **did** need him. If it hadn't been for Joey, Chandler would've died. Literally.

"We're ready for you, Joey." The director's voice ripped him from his retrospect, and he handed his copy of the script off to Nate before taking his spot on set.

**XXX**

…The shooting schedule was brutal, and Joey wanted nothing more than to fall through the door of his apartment and stumble into bed. It could wait till morning, telling Chandler about seeing Rachel at the studio. He would have to consider his words carefully though, since he knew it was a delicate subject, and probably always would be. Still, he was fairly certain he would want to know that Monica was doing ok.

"You forgot to lock the door again."

Joey jumped at the sound of Chandler's voice, and Chandler laughed at his reaction.

"Sorry, did I scare you?"

Taking a deep breath, Joey nodded, his hand to his heart. "I thought I'd beat you home."

"No overtime today," Chandler muttered, then clicked off the TV before announcing, "I have news."

Joey eyed him guardedly for a moment, his brain immediately going to his earlier chat with Rachel. Was it possible she went to go see him as well?

"I have a date!" Chandler exclaimed, his smile growing wider.

His excitement was instantly contagious, and Joey found his expression mirroring Chandler's. "Really? With who?"

"Remember that gal I told you about? She broke down outside the studio and I called a tow truck for her?"

"Oh! The one you were hoping to dream about?" Joey asked, and Chandler nodded.

"Yep! That's the one! She came by today to thank me for helping her out! We're gonna go grab some coffee tomorrow!"

"That is **so** cool! What's her name?"

"Gina," Chandler answered. "**Re**gina, actually, but she prefers to go by Gina."

As his friend rambled on excitedly, Joey's mind drifted. He couldn't tell him about seeing Rachel. It would dredge up the past, and suck away the tiny bit of confidence he gained in the wake of this woman's interest in him.

"Are you even listening to me?"

The question grabbed Joey's attention. "Yeah, man," he insisted, "I'm with 'ya, I'm just, really tired."

"You look it," Chandler returned with a smirk. "Go lie down before you fall down," he instructed jovially. "We'll talk tomorrow."

**XXX**

…With as tired as he was, Joey still couldn't shut off his brain. Moments of his life played out like a movie filled with flashbacks, jumping around in time and in no specific order, preventing him from falling asleep…

**_XXX_**

…"Chandler dear, what's wrong?"

_Joey heard his mom ask the question, and jumped up from the table unexcused, heading for the foyer. As he rounded the corner, he saw his mom, holding Chandler, his friend barely able to speak, he was sobbing so hard._

"My mom and dad just told me," he choked out, "That they're getting a divorce. And my dad is gay now, and sleeping with the houseboy…"

**_X_**

_…"Chandler! We're gonna get in trouble!" Joey whispered harshly, looking around them for any sign of approaching people._

_"Only if we get caught," Chandler replied, continuing to stuff the toilet at the studio with rolls of toilet paper._

_With the sound of flushing came Chandler, racing out of the stall and for the door. "Run!" he shouted, and Joey was fast on his heels as they made a hasty retreat._

**_X_**

_…"He's one of the top grossing child actors at the box office right now. Ok, so, he gets into mischief. He's an eleven year old boy! They do that sometimes!"_

_Joey hid around the corner, so his agent and the director wouldn't see him._

_"He's all business when it comes time to do his lines!" the agent continued._

_"I'm not saying anything about his talents. I have no issue with that. But, the head of security is on my case. He's flooded the bathroom twice this week! He took a container of clam dip from off the craft services table and hid it in a filing cabinet in reception!"_

_"All harmless pranks!" the agent replied._

_"Still, he needs parental supervision."_

_"Well, there's a problem there," the agent explained. "His parents are divorced. Messily. His dad isn't- Well, he isn't in the picture anymore, and his mom is… Other than cashing her checks efficiently, she's not involved."_

_"Who's responsible for him then?"_

_"Gloria Tribbiani is his guardian."_

**_X_**

_…"I just spoke with your mom, hun," Joey's mom said as she sat beside Chandler. "She says you can stay here, with us, instead of going to that boarding school, if you'd rather."_

_"Hey," Joey spoke up, "It'll be like we're brothers!"_

_Chandler smiled slight, even though he was hurting inside, old enough to understand that he was basically being abandoned by the two people who were supposed to love him most. Who were responsible for his existence._

_"Ma, can we have bunk beds?" Joey asked, and his mom nodded._

_"And you can keep working, if you want. Don't worry sweetie," she added, wrapping her arm around her ward, "Your mom will still come to visit."_

**_X_**

_…"This is the third Christmas she's missed," Chandler complained, and all Joey could do was be there for him, and listen as he vented. "This is the last time I wait around for her to show. Three strikes and you're out, ya'know?"_

_Joey nodded solemnly. "What was her excuse this time?"_

_"It doesn't matter," Chandler grumbled in response, grabbing his jacket from off his bed. "I need a smoke. You comin?"_

_"If my mom catches you, you'll be lectured into next week."_

_"At least she cares enough to lecture," Chandler returned, heading for the door. "We'll hide around back, ok? C'mon. I could use the company."_

_Joey stood and followed him out the door._

**_X_**

_…"Honey, you're an adult now, you can smoke if you want to, I can't stop you," Gloria told Chandler, "But, it's a very unhealthy habit."_

_"I know, Mrs. Tribb," Chandler replied, looking remorseful. "I'll try to quit."_

_Gloria smiled wide, touching his face endearingly before hugging him._

_After she left, Joey asked, "Are you **really** going to quit?"_

_Chandler just stared back for a moment, then announced, "I said **try**."_

_"You just lied to my mom!"_

_"I didn't **lie** to her," Chandler shot back. "I love your mom, ok? But, quitting is hard! I've been smoking since I was nine years old! And now, with the stress my mom is putting me through, since I dumped her as my manager, it's just gonna make it that much harder!"_

_Joey backed down, like he always did when it came to Chandler. "Well, if you need help, I'm here for 'ya, man."_

_"I know," Chandler said with a smile. "You're the best friend and almost-brother a guy could ask for!"_

**_X_**

_…"Why do you stand by him? He's gonna drag you down with him!"_

_Joey avoided eye contact with his agent, a deep sigh showing the conflict within him. "He's like my brother. I can't just bail on him."_

_"You can be there for him as a friend, and like a brother, but that doesn't mean you have to follow him into the dumper! And trust me, Joe, that's where his career is headed. That Monica Geller fiasco was the beginning of the end for him. He used to be able to separate personal problems and feelings from his professional appearance. He just can't, or won't, anymore. If you continue to shadow him, he will take you down with him. I'm telling you this, not only as your agent, but as your friend. Get off the sinking ship **now**, while you still have the chance."_

**_X_**

_…"Chandler? What are you doing back-?" Joey stopped short of finishing the question, seeing the tortured look on his friend's face. "What happened? What's wrong?" he asked, rushing up to him._

_"The fat bastard tried to rape me!"_

TO BE CONTINUED… Please review! And MTLBYAKY 


	10. 10

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

**Chapter Ten**

**XXXXX**

…The ringing of his cell phone woke him from his slumber, and he blindly felt around for it, due to his eyes' refusal to open. He ran his fingers over the keypad, finding the right button by touch, then pushed it before mumbling, "Joey Tribbiani."

"Hey, Joey, it's Rachel."

He sobered up instantly, pulling himself into a sitting position and wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Hey, Rachel. What's up?"

"Just wondering if you'd like to meet for coffee or something today."

"Um, sure. That sounds great! Where would you like to meet?"

**XXX**

…"Gina, hi," Chandler said, greeting her as she entered the quaint coffeehouse.

She smiled as she approached, asking, "Am I late? We said quarter-till, right?"

After giving her a friendly peck on the cheek, he said, "No, you're not late. I'm actually a little early."

"Ah. Ok, then." She took off her sweater before joining him on the orange couch that had been the focal point of Central Perk since the day it opened. "So, where shall we start?" she asked. "Jobs? Family? Dating history?"

Chandler smiled at her straightforwardness. "Jobs," he answered, "Since I don't even know what you do."

"I'm a chef," she replied. "At Javu's."

"Wow, ritzy place. I hear they have great food."

"You've never eaten there before?"

"Nah. A bit highbrow for my simple tastes and budget."

"Well, maybe one of these days, I can **personally** make you my specialty from the menu."

"I'd like that," he returned with a knowing grin.

"So, you're in security," she moved the conversation along. "How long have you been in that line of work?"

"A few years or so," he said in response, tensing slightly.

"So, what did you do before?" she asked, curious to see what his answer would be.

"Um, actually," he muttered as he picked his mug up from off the coffee table and brought it to his lips, "I was an actor."

She was actually shocked that he'd admitted that to her. Keeping her best neutral expression in place, she asked, "Oh, really? Would I have seen you in anything?" She could tell instantly that he didn't want to discuss it.

"I did a few kiddie comedies when I was younger, and a few romantic comedies as a teenager, but, I put all that behind me."

"Why?"

With a shrug, he said, "Lots of reasons. Some personal, some professional. It's a long story," he added, then quickly changed the subject. "So, only child?"

"No, actually, I have a brother. Older brother."

He nodded, then tapped his chest with his finger, "Only child, here. Technically."

"You're lucky," she told him. "My brother tortured me on a regular basis growing up. Then, of course, there was the sibling rivalry, and the fact that mom liked him best."

"Parents divorced?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No, they're still together. Yours?"

He shook his head. "Divorced when I was nine."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's ok," he assured her with a dismissive gesture of his hand. "It was a long time ago."

"You get stuck in the middle?" she asked. "Fighting for who gets custody and child support and all that?"

"No," he answered, his eyes dropping to the orange tapestry of the couch. "Neither one of them wanted me," he admitted. "I was raised by my best friend's mom."

Monica physically winced; she didn't know that about him. Instantly, she felt a pang of sympathy for the man. "I'm so sorry. I don't- I don't even know what to say to that."

"Don't worry about it," he returned gently. "I'm sorry I brought it up, it's just, you asked, and I have this thing about lying."

She nodded, at a loss for how to continue. Luckily, he picked up the ball and ran with it.

"So, that leaves dating, huh?" He smiled, letting her know that it was ok to move on. "For me, there's not much to tell. I've had my share of first dates, but, not many second dates. The few I've had, didn't turn into serious relationships by any means."

"Why do you suppose that is?" she asked, amazed by his level of honesty.

He chuckled grimly, then sipped his coffee before replying. "My past is a lot to get past." Off her confused expression, he added, "Don't worry, I'm not a former convict or anything. I just- I've had a lot of issues to overcome, and, I just really didn't handle it very well… in my youth. I wasn't a very nice person."

After a moment, she near-whispered, "I can't believe how honest you're being."

"Well," he explained, "It's better to know **now** if it's something we can work past, before time and emotions are invested. Ya'know?"

True feelings showed through for a moment, her act slipping from her mind as her eyes filled with tears, surprising him.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, concerned.

She quickly swiped at her eyes, attempting to regain her composure. "I just, didn't know that about-"

"Joey, hey," Chandler exclaimed suddenly, cutting her off unintentionally. "What are you doing here?" he asked, standing.

Joey looked like a deer caught in headlights, staring back at his friend. Before he could mutter an explanation, Chandler recognized the person standing beside him.

"Rachel Green?" he whispered, and Rachel nodded in reply.

"Hello, Chandler," she said cordially, closing the gap to shake his hand. "Long time, no see, huh?"

He nodded, guilt, fear, and remorse written all over his face. At a loss for what to say, he just stared back at the woman he'd known from so long ago. "I didn't know you were back in touch," he finally said, breaking the silence.

"She came by yesterday, out of the blue," Joey explained, "And I was gonna tell you, but, you were talking about going out with that Gina gal, and I didn't want to-" He stopped abruptly when he saw that there was a woman sitting on the couch next to where Chandler had just been seated. It was then that he realized, Chandler was actually on the date at that moment.

Almost as if he could read his mind, Chandler nodded and gestured towards his date. "Joey, Rachel, this is Gina. Gina, this is my friend, Joey, and an old acquaintance, Rachel."

Monica stood, slowly turning to face them, then extended her hand towards Joey. "It's nice to meet you," she said genially, staring him straight in the eye, almost challenging him to recognize her.

It was obvious he was thinking, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he shook her hand mechanically. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide, and he just stopped himself from saying her name out loud as he pulled his hand away, almost as if burned.

"Nice to meet you," he said in return, then looked over at Chandler. "Can I speak with you for a moment?" he asked of him, his pointed expression conveying that it was of the utmost importance.

"Ok," Chandler agreed, catching the stern look his friend wore, then excused himself as he and Joey walked away from the couch, closer to the entranceway of the establishment.

"He recognized you," Rachel stated softly, and Monica nodded. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do," came the reply.

"He's telling him who you are right now," Rachel informed, and again, Monica nodded. "I'm here for you if you need me."

"I know," Monica whispered. "And thanks."

…"Dude, do you **not know** who that is?"

Chandler scowled back at his friend for a moment before saying, "Yeah, I know who she is. Do **you**?" he asked, then inhaled sharply. "Don't tell me **you've** dated her!"

"No," Joey whispered emphatically. "Chandler! That's Monica Geller!"

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please leave a review!

MTLBYAKY


	11. 11

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

**Chapter Eleven**

**XXXXX**

…"That's Monica Geller," Joey exclaimed in a whisper, asking, "How could you not recognize her?"

Chandler's brain raced with thought, dredging up memories long since buried, and recalling newer memories to compare the women in each of them. As if a light bulb was suddenly switched on in his mind, he gasped, then slowly turned towards the couch. His gaze caught with hers, and he knew. When he saw the tears that glistened in her eyes, and the expression she wore, looking so much like that young woman he had yelled at and humiliated all those years ago, his heart nearly leapt from his chest.

It was as if he was approaching a timid child, as he neared the couch where she sat, kneeling once arriving before her.

"Monica Geller?" he whispered, and she nodded, tears finally breaking free and running down her cheeks. Tears filled his eyes, and he offered a consoling smile before wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head in her lap.

"I owe you **so** much more than an apology. **So** much more than an explanation." Pulling back, he took her hand in his, asking, "Will you allow me to give you at least that much?"

Silently, she nodded.

"Someplace a little more private though, maybe?" he suggested.

"I live right upstairs," she told him, and he smiled in response.

"I'll be right here," Rachel announced, for Monica's benefit, "If you need me."

"Same here," Joey added, for Chandler's benefit.

As Chandler and Monica made their way towards the door, Rachel and Joey looked over at one another.

"I guess we have a lot to talk about, too," Joey stated, his tone respectful and quiet, and Rachel nodded in agreement.

"I think we do."

**XXX**

…"I want you to know," Monica said as they entered her apartment, "I only lied about my name, because I didn't know if you would be willing to talk to me."

"Fair enough," he said in response. "Can I ask, why were you at the studio, the night your car broke down? It wasn't to see Randy Duncan," he added, "Was it?"

She shook her head. "I was there, spying on you," she admitted nervously. "I wasn't expecting to talk to you, but when the car died, and there you were, at my window…" She trailed off, taking a moment and a deep breath before continuing. Why did this man still have an affect on her?

"When you didn't seem to recognize me, I made up the whole, looking for Randy Duncan thing, because I didn't want you thinking I was there to stalk a celebrity, and call the cops or something."

He nodded. "So, you came to spy on me, but you didn't want to talk to me?"

"No," she confessed, "I didn't. Do you blame me?"

"No," he said remorsefully, "I don't blame you one bit."

"You want something to drink?" she asked, uncomfortable, changing the subject as she headed for the fridge. "We have soda, orange juice, beer, milk, tea-"

"Monica." He interrupted her nervous babbling, gesturing for her to sit down. "We can worry about that later, ok?"

Nodding, she moved around to the couch, sitting first, watching as he took a seat beside her.

"Where do I start?" he asked her, not really expecting an answer, surprised when he got one.

"Why did you hate me so much?" she asked, straining to keep her tears at bay.

"Right for the throat," he muttered, taking in a deep breath. "It wasn't personal," he began, "As crazy as that sounds. I hated almost everybody, back then. I was dealing with issues, or, better put, **not** dealing with issues, and I was just… lashing out. Out of control. I had a warped view of who the enemy was."

"And you thought **I** was the enemy?"

"You were reaching out to me, and I viewed it as a threat. If no one gets into Chandler Bing's heart, then his heart can't get broken. Ya'know? I've only ever let two people in," he admitted to her.

"And Joey was one of them," Monica surmised, and Chandler nodded. "May I ask who the other person was?"

"Joey's mom," he answered immediately. "Gloria Tribbiani. She's always been like a mom to me. She was more of a mom than my own mom, that's for sure. She raised me from the age of nine, after my parents split."

"So, the divorce was hard on you," she recounted, "And the fact that your parents didn't want you, and basically abandoned you was hard on you… so, you hurt people **first**, before they could hurt you."

"That's part of it, yeah," he said in response; she could tell there was more.

"What's the other part?" she asked carefully, unsure of how far to press.

"You deserve answers," he said, his tone of voice thick with an inner pain that ran deep and long, "It's just, hard for me," he admitted, and purely out of reflex and instinct, Monica reached over and grasped his hand. Strange to his mind, her kindness seemed to give him the courage to continue.

"About two years after my parents split up, my dad came by for a visit. He brought with him, his gay lover. I was in their hotel room, waiting for my dad to return from the concierge desk, and the guy-"

His voice gave out, stopping his story abruptly, and he took in several shaky breaths as tears streamed down his face, unchecked.

"Would you like some water?" she offered, and he nodded in response.

Grabbing a bottled water from the fridge, and then a glass to pour it into, Monica moved silently about the kitchen, all too aware of what was about to be confessed. She could just sense it.

Handing him the glass, she reminded him to sip it slowly, then rejoined him on the couch, waiting patiently, for as long as it took, for him to continue.

When he set the glass down on the coffee table, Monica suppressed every urge to grab a coaster and place it beneath the sweating glass, feeling the moment was too important to interrupt with her neurosis.

"I was alone with the guy," Chandler continued, "And he was asking me all these questions. **Really** inappropriate questions. Making me **really** uncomfortable. Like, have I ever masturbated, and have I ever gotten a hard-on looking at other guys. Then he told me that because my dad was gay, **I** would probably be gay, too."

"I just wanted to get away from him," he went on after a moment's pause. "I told him I had to go to the bathroom, thinking I could lock myself in until my dad came back. He said he would 'take' me, and tried to follow me in. I told him I wasn't a baby, and could manage on my own. When I turned around, he grabbed me. Threw me on the bed. He tried to-"

"I know," she interrupted quickly, before he could continue. "I know what you're going to say. You don't have to say the words," she told him, then moved to hold him.

"My dad walked in at that moment, thank God. Pulled the guy off me, told me to grab money out of his wallet and take a cab back to Joey's. He felt so guilty, about what had happened, or almost happened, that he never spoke to me again. I got a letter, a couple weeks later, but that's been the extent of my contact with my father since that day."

"It messed me up, more so than I realized," he continued. "And I didn't make the connection until way later, while in therapy, as an adult," he whispered as they remained in each other's arms, "But, the guy, was overweight."

She pulled back, asking, "So, you hated all overweight people?"

He nodded. "Subconsciously, yeah. It was like an automatic reflex or something. I wasn't making a conscious decision to hate, I just **did**."

Nodding, she waited a moment before asking, "What happened, to change your…?" She trailed off, unsure of how to word the question.

"You want to know what happened to change me from an asshole, into a semi-decent human being?"

Monica smiled uneasily in response.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please leave a review!

MTLBYAKY


	12. 12

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

**Chapter Twelve**

**XXXXX**

…"Oh my God," Rachel gasped in a whisper, shocked over what she had just been told. "How old was he?"

"Eleven," Joey answered. "Almost twelve."

"Oh my God," she repeated, and Joey sighed as he nodded in agreement.

"When his parents divorced," he further explained, "When they told him his dad was gay, and then essentially dumped him, it was hard on him. Obviously. He lashed out a little. Smoked an occasional cigarette, flooded a few studio bathrooms, threw a few water balloons at certain security guards. But, it was just, you know, silly harmless pranks. So he could feel somewhat in control of his life. But, after the attempted rape…" He whispered the word 'rape', then dropped the sentence abruptly.

"I stood by him," he continued, "Because I knew, this wasn't the **real** Chandler, ya'know? The **real** Chandler was my friend. Funny, loyal, smart. He was like my brother, even before he unofficially became my brother. And it wasn't like it happened overnight. The anger, the insults, hating people… it was gradual. And since I lived with him, and since he always treated me like a friend, I didn't really see it at first." After a sad sigh, he added, "It was like, several years later, and I was like, whoa! What happened!"

"I tried to bring it to his attention a few times," he went on, "But he would start to get really upset. **I** didn't want to be one of the reasons why he was upset, ya'know?"

Rachel nodded, asking, "Did he ever see someone about it? Like, a psychiatrist?"

"Not back then, no. No one knew it had happened, besides his dad and me. My mom didn't even know. I think he was just too embarrassed to say something."

"He seems so different now," she stated with a purpose. "What happened to change him?"

"This still goes no further," he prefaced for the second time since starting the in-depth conversation, and when she nodded, he continued. "About five years ago, I came home, and found Chandler on the floor of the apartment… in a pool of vomit and blood. He'd tried to kill himself," he added softly.

"Oh my God," she gasped. "Did it all just catch up with him or something?" she asked, but he shook his head.

"His past didn't help, I'm sure, but that wasn't the immediate reason, no. He found out that because… Well, there were other factors involved, obviously, but, in part, because of something he'd said, a young woman killed herself."

Rachel sat shocked. Speechless. Unable to find the right words, or **any** words, she just waited for Joey to continue.

"He didn't know she was there. She **shouldn't** have been there, technically. She was only nineteen, and The Vibe is twenty-one and over, but, they're lax. Always have been. The music was loud, and his back was turned. He didn't see her standing there."

"She was a fan," he went on, "And waiting for him to finish talking so she could ask for his autograph. He was drunk, and was rambling on about overweight women, making some nasty comments about how all fat people should be herded to some island and forced on diets." He shook his head. "I don't know everything that was said, but she left in tears. According to her suicide note, she was being picked on at school. College. Bullied and beat up I guess. Chandler's words were the final straw, according to her. She OD'd on pain killers and something else, **and** she slit her wrists."

"She mentioned Chandler by name, and The Vibe, in her note. Her mom went in search of him. She wasn't angry with him. She didn't even blame him, but she was obviously devastated. She pulled Chandler aside. Told him everything. Gave him a copy of the suicide note, and the funeral program and eulogy. He was gone for days. I had no idea where he was. I had no idea what had happened. I come home from work one day, and, there he is."

"His suicide note explained all of it. And the stuff the girl's mom had given him was with it. There was a razor blade next to him, and an empty prescription bottle. He did the same thing the girl had done. It was symbolic, I guess. Fortunately for him, after taking the pills, when he slit his wrist, the blood made him queasy and he puked. And I walked in, something like, less than five minutes later, so he didn't lose all that much blood before the ambulance arrived. He checked himself into a rehab hospital to deal with his severe depression and alcohol abuse a month or so later. He came out a new man."

"I'm just… floored," she admitted with a sigh. "How come this never got out? I've never seen anything about any of this. In the tabloids or anywhere."

Joey shrugged. "Lucky, for the most part. The divorce got out, but for some reason, his dad's lifestyle change didn't. No one knew about the attempted rape, except Chandler, his dad, and me. And of course the guy that did it, but **he** wasn't going to say anything. So, **that** never got out. His checking into rehab, **some** knew about it, but, since he's no longer 'a name', no one really cared. That, and there's the whole, doctor-patient confidentiality thing," he added.

"He hasn't seen his dad in years. Since the attempted rape. Chandler blamed himself. He blamed the boyfriend. He started to hate his dad. Shortly after it happened, he got a letter, but to this day I don't know what it said."

"Sarah's suicide didn't get out, cause her mom never handed the suicide note over to the police. And she never went public with it. She sends Chandler a Christmas card every year."

"This is just… unbelievable!" Rachel announced in a whispered voice. "It sure explains some things."

"He actually talked about trying to find Monica, after he got out of rehab, but never could gather the courage. He wanted to apologize to her. He feels horrible **now**, about all that happened. He thinks he's the reason she quit acting."

"There were several reasons, actually," Rachel explained. "It wasn't really what she wanted to do with her life, long term. She got into it as a kid, cause it seemed like fun to her, and she was given a lifetime supply of burgers at any Burger Castle nationwide. But as she got older, and they replaced her as the cute little kid in the commercials, she really didn't want to be doing it anymore. Her mom was accustomed to the money and recognition, so, she pushed her to keep doing it. Monica did **not** want to do 'A Summer To Remember', but, when Chandler apologized to her…"

"He seemed so sincere," Rachel continued after trailing off. "She believed him. She started to fall for him. The only reason she did the movie was to be near him. When he cut her down, that final day of shooting, she pretty much crashed hard. It took her a long time to get over it. Over **him**. By the time she did, she was over eighteen, and on her way to losing one hundred pounds. She cut her mom loose and entered a culinary institute. Being a chef is her calling, no doubt about that."

"I'm so glad she's happy and successful. She deserves nothing less." Joey said with all sincerity. "I always liked her, and always felt bad about how things were." He smiled, "She looks incredible now."

Rachel smiled back. "She does, doesn't she?"

He nodded, asking, "Do you know if she's seeing anyone?"

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please leave a review!

MTLBYAKY


	13. 13

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**XXXXX**

…Silently, they remained in each other's arms. Words weren't needed, a deeper connection expressing where emotions were in that moment.

Everything made sense. Finally, after so many years of wondering, she had her answers. The man she held in her arms, the man that was comforting **her** as much as **she** was comforting **him**, had the kind of life no human should have to suffer through. It almost made her feel guilty, allowing simple fat jokes and comments to affect her the way they did, when he was going through such hell.

"I feel silly now," she said softly, timidly, "Getting so upset about the things you said- the things I overheard, when **you** were the one going through utter torment."

"No, no," he told her ardently as he pulled back, gazing compellingly into her eyes, "What I did, it wasn't right. I didn't tell you all this, to minimize what I did to you."

"I know you didn't," she whispered; his eyes were so deep, she thought she might get lost in them. Slowly, lacking any and all confidence, she inched closer to him. As her lips brushed his, she took in a shaky breath, her brain fearful of being rejected yet again by a man that seemed to hold her heart and soul completely.

They'd shared kisses during the filming of the movie, all those years ago, but what followed was a totally different experience. His lips were soft, inviting; he returned her kisses with a passion that is almost always missing from staged kissing, and had been missing from her life thus far.

Desire building, he grew hungry for her, cradling her head as his free hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Breathlessly, she broke away from him. "I'm afraid." He pulled back, his hand moving to her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

"Of what?" he asked, his tone soft, everything about his demeanor showing genuine selflessness.

"Of getting hurt again," she admitted, and he dropped his hand from her face. "I had a huge crush on you…"

She hesitated, staring into his amazing eyes; eyes that, at one time, was a source of pain. But the angry expression he once carried, that was emblazoned in her memory was nowhere to be found, now.

"I know it's not the same as what you went through," she began, finding the courage somehow to continue- to tell him what she had always wanted to, "But the pain I felt back then, and for years after, was **very** real. You have no idea, what I went through- what it did to me."

"I'm listening," he told her, encouraging her to unleash the years of emotional build-up he himself was responsible for.

"I thought we were making a connection," she admitted. "You know, a **connection**? Then, on that final day- your words, they were like a physical blow. Literally. I went into a deep depression after that. I stopped eating- I stopped living…"

"I didn't go on the press junkets," she continued, "Or to the photo shoots, because I couldn't imagine myself being in the same room with you, without wanting to kill myself."

He physically winced when that last sentence hit the air, trying desperately to hold back the tears. He'd hurt so many people in his life… he hated himself for the first time in months, at that moment.

"I hated you," she told him. "I hated myself. I hated the business. It was Rachel, and my friend Phoebe, who pulled me out of the pit, and helped me to become who I am today. Them, and my brother."

"Ross," he asked, "Right?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Ross."

"He must hate me," he surmised, not at all surprised when she nodded in response.

Brutally honest, she said, "He doesn't agree with what I'm doing now. He doesn't think I should be anywhere near you. He doesn't think I can handle what could come of it."

"And, what do you think?" he asked, curious, unintentionally holding his breath till she answered.

"I don't think he's right about you," she admitted, "For one thing. He doesn't think a man can change, **that** much. But, I do agree with him on one point," she added, almost sadly.

"Which is what?" he asked.

"I think you have the potential to hurt me, **very** badly, if you wanted to."

"I promise you, Monica," his lowered voice was nothing but sincere, "That man, that hurt you back then, no longer exists."

"I want to believe that," she whispered, and he nodded dejectedly.

"But it's hard to believe," he added, finishing her sentence. "I understand." Eyes falling away from her, he moved, creating distance between them, scooting further down the couch.

"Chandler." Gaining his attention, she told him, "I know you're a different person now. I've witnessed that, first hand. And, I want you to know, I forgive you, for the things you said to me back then. And I ask that **you** forgive **me**."

Confused, he asked, "For what?"

"For kissing you," she answered, and he sighed despondently. "I shouldn't have done that, while I'm still trying to sort out my head. But," she added, inching closer to him again, taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze, "I don't want this to be goodbye."

His eyebrows arched at her statement. "You don't?"

"No, I don't," she insisted with a gentle shake of her head, her hair grazing her shoulders with the motion. "Do something for me," she requested, and he nodded.

"Anything," he told her softly, squeezing back, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips.

"Be my friend," she asked of him. "Allow me to get to know you."

Noticeable as his smile grew, he muttered, "I can do that."

"Yeah?" she asked, her expression mirroring his, and he nodded. "Thank you," she whispered, then wrapped her arms around him. "And, thank you for giving me answers to questions that had plagued me for years."

Holding her almost reverently, he whispered back, "Thank **you**, for forgiving me."

**XXX**

…"Do you know if she's seeing anyone?" Joey asked, and Rachel's smile faltered.

"Um, no," she answered, trying to seem indifferent to the inquiry. "No, she's not seeing anyone." The disappointment in her voice was clear as crystal to Joey, who found himself amused by her reaction. "Are you thinking of asking her out?" she asked before sipping at her coffee.

"No," he returned, his smile well hidden. "I was asking because I think Chandler is really into her."

A concerned expression took the place of her disheartened one. "Do you think that's a good idea?" she asked, being careful not to offend. "I mean, he hurt her bad back then. I would hate for her to get hurt again."

"That won't happen," Joey insisted, defending the man he knew better than anyone else.

"How can you be so sure?" she questioned him, but it wasn't Joey who answered.

"Because, he's a different person now."

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

**XXX**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: I'm bringing this unfinished fic back up because I'm working on completing it. If you are interested in me doing this, please leave a review and let me know!

Thanks, and MTLBYAKY


	14. 14

The One With The Biz

**By Jana**

Chapter 14 

**XXXXX**

…"Are you thinking of asking her out?" Rachel asked before sipping at her coffee.

"No," he returned, his smile well hidden. "I was asking because I think Chandler is really into her."

A concerned expression took the place of her disheartened one. "Do you think that's a good idea?" she asked, being careful not to offend. "I mean, he hurt her bad back then. I would hate for her to get hurt again."

"That won't happen," Joey insisted, defending the man he knew better than anyone else.

"How can you be so sure?" she questioned him, but it wasn't Joey who answered.

"Because, he's a different person now."

Rachel and Joey both turned to find a blond-haired woman Joey didn't know, and Rachel knew all too well.

"Hey, Pheebs," Rachel greeted casually, knowing no invitation was needed for her eccentric friend to share just what she meant by her statement.

"I was just up at Monica's," Phoebe volunteered as she took a seat, joining the duo without so much as glancing at Joey. "Met Chandler. His aura is bright green, which shows a very genuine soul, **and** I shook his hand. Trust me," she added as she waved Gunther, the coffeehouse waiter over to take her order, "He's a changed man."

"Aura?" Joey asked, not quite sure what to make of what was just said. "You know what kind of person he is, just by shaking his hand?" he then asked Phoebe directly, and finally, she turned her attention to the handsome Italian sitting at her side.

"I possess a substantial psychic gift," she replied, then rattled off her order of hot tea with lemon before addressing Rachel again. "You don't need to worry, ok? Monica is going to be fine," she assured. "Now, introduce us please." Her request was followed by a wink at Joey, who smiled in return.

**XXX**

…There was an awkward air between them after Phoebe left with the announcement that they had her blessing, and Chandler only stared back at a scarlet Monica in response, not knowing what else to do.

Finally, the silence was broken. "Sorry about that," Monica apologized for her friend, suddenly very interested in the placement of all the chairs around her dining table.

Busy work, Chandler guessed immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets for something to do along with her.

"Interesting gal," he eventually mumbled as he stood in place, shifting his weight from one foot to the other his only movement. "She seems familiar. Have I met her before?"

"Yeah, probably," she said in response as she joined him in fidgeting, drumming her fingers in a rapid series of taps and clicks on the table. "I think she came to the set once or twice. You know," she added with a shrug, continuing to avoid eye contact, "Back **then**."

"Right." His answer brief, he tried to remember if it was this strange between them before the blond had come in. He decided it wasn't, and moved to fix the strain that was apparent.

"Look," he said, gaining her attention. "The night is young, as they say, ya'know? Would you, maybe…" He stuttered as he tried finding the words. "Do you wanna go, you know, **out**? Like, to dinner? Or to a movie?"

It was recognized immediately, his attempts at bridging some odd gap that had formed, and with the slow nod of her head, she noticed Chandler's smile grow. "That sounds fun," she admitted, reaching for her purse. "How 'bout both?" Not waiting for an answer - fairly certain she knew what it was - she started for the door.

"Just remember," he quipped, "I'm only a lowly security guard now. Gone are the days of steak and lobster dinners." Falling in line behind her, he stopped dead when she did, stepping back out of instinct when she turned to face him.

"Pizza ok?" she asked, smirking at his response to her; he agreed easily, a similar expression to hers following. "Good." She then spun back around and, once again, headed for the door. "I get to pick the movie, then."

"You **tricked** me!" he gasped dramatically, jokingly, and she glanced back with a smug and confident look on her face, which just captivated him all the more. If she was trying to intrigue him, she was succeeding.

"Well, then," he announced, closing the front door to her apartment behind him and catching up to her with a slight jog of 3 or 4 steps, "**You** are buying the popcorn!"

When she heard his footsteps on the stairs that lead down and out of her building, she called back over her shoulder, "You got yourself a deal!"

**XXX**

…"So, how'd it go?"

Monica jumped a foot at the sound of Rachel's voice. "You **scared** me!" she exclaimed, her breathing a little off as she hung her purse and coat up on her designated hook by the front door.

"Sorry," Rachel laughed, then asked again, "So tell me how it went!"

"It went… fine," Monica replied, but there was a hesitancy to her tone.

"You don't sound so sure," Rachel said, watching her friend, her expressions and mannerisms, just a little bit closer. "You ok?"

"Yeah," Monica insisted. "I'm fine. Just tired." She yawned for affect.

"You sure?" Rachel asked again. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"No." Though Monica sounded confident, she was actually anything **but**. "It's just…"

"Just, what?" Rachel asked when Monica trailed off, leaving her sentence unfinished.

"You just- you wouldn't believe what this guy has been through. I guess it just seems, kinda, I don't know, cruel now, in light of it all." When Rachel sighed, a sign she was irritated, Monica added, "He really has changed, you know."

"That may be," Rachel shot back, "And maybe he is all nice and stuff now, or whatever, but so were **you** all those years ago! Turn around is fair play!"

"Yeah," Monica mumbled, almost sounding defeated, "And two wrongs don't make a right."

A disappointed shake of her head preceded Rachel asking, "So, then, you **are** having second thoughts."

"I don't know," Monica stated honestly, and Rachel quickly took that answer to wedge her opinions into the conversation.

"Look," she said with a much softer tone than she had been using previously, "I know what this is. It's your 'good side'. Always doing the right thing, always thinking of other people's feelings above your own-"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Monica interrupted, but Rachel continued without pause.

"Sometimes, you have to put your needs in front of others'. You don't have to take his feelings into consideration here, ok? He wronged you, and you have the right to pay him back!"

"I know that." Monica dropped down on the couch, working to remove her shoes. "But, with all he's been through…"

"I know all about what he's been through, ok?" Monica looked up at her abruptly, and Rachel hurried on to explain. "When you were having your little chat with Chandler, I chatted with Joey."

"Oh," was the only response she received.

As she sat down on the coffee table opposite her, Rachel gained Monica's undivided attention. "If you don't want to go through with it, tell me now. I mean, everything has already been set into motion, but, I'll figure something out."

Guilt. Monica was used to it, and recognized it easily, but she was helpless to fight against it. "No, I **want** to go through with it, I guess, it's just- I guess I'm getting a case of conscience, is all."

"Oh, is that all?" Rachel laughed, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm telling you, once you do this, you're gonna feel **so** much better! You're just not used to exacting revenge."

Monica smiled. "Whereas you could write a book about it!"

"Yeah, well," Rachel muttered proudly, then gave Monica's knee a little pat. "Get some sleep," she instructed her. "By tomorrow, the plan will be looking just as good as it did when we first cooked it up."

Monica nodded, biting her tongue to keep from saying what she really wanted to say…

'The only reason I agreed to this plan in the first place, is because I was drunk, and you convinced me it was a good idea. Now, I'm not so sure.'

**XXX**

…"You're getting in kinda late," Joey stated as Chandler walked through the door, a suggestive lilt to his voice. "You had **fun**, I take it?"

Chandler rolled his eyes as he dropped his keys on the entrance table and headed for the fridge. "Not **your** kind of fun, no. But, yeah, I had a good time tonight." After grabbing himself a little bottle of ginger beer, he moved to take a seat in his recliner, opposite Joey.

"If you **didn't** have sex," Joey asked, confused, "Then why are you getting back so late?"

"There **are** things to do on a date other than sex. Besides, she just wants to be friends for right now. Cause of our history," he added, "I can't blame her for that."

"I can't believe she forgave you so easily," Joey mused, and Chandler shot him a look in response. It took a moment, but Joey eventually figured out why Chandler was staring back at him, looking slightly miffed, so he spoke quickly, attempting to do damage control.

"No, no," Joey spouted, "Not because you don't **deserve** to be forgiven! Cause you do! You're a different man now! I know that! I just meant that, cause she was **so** hurt, back **then**, and, ya'know, a lot of people would hold a grudge with something like that, and it's just so great that she's not like that-"

"Joey!" Chandler interrupted. "Stop babbling!" Calming his tone of voice, he added, "You don't have to walk on egg shells around me anymore, or kiss my ass, k, man?"

Joey nodded, offering a lopsided grin and a shrug of understanding. It was hard sometimes for Joey, when Chandler seemed irritated over something, to **not** go back to that eager-little-puppy of a sidekick.

"I'm downright amazed that she forgave me," Chandler admitted. "It's just, when you said it out loud, it brought up a bunch of bad memories and doubts. Sorry if I gave you the wrong idea."

"Oh, that's ok," Joey quickly accepted the apology, asking, "So, are you gonna see her again?"

"Yeah," Chandler answered, a smile creeping across his face. "Thursday night, after I get off of work, and after her restaurant closes, I'm going over there and she's gonna make a masterpiece from off their menu, just for me."

"Do you see this going somewhere?" Joey asked, sincerely wanting to know.

"You know, I think it's possible, yeah." Before Joey could get too excited, he added, "**But** I think it's more up to Monica than anything. If all she ever wants is friendship, then she will have it. For as long as she wants it."

**TBC…**

**XXX**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Ok, this is the first chapter I've written for this story in something close to a year. I need to know if it blends well with all the previous chapters. I'm sure Exintaris will have some opinions, but I need feedback from the rest of you as well. So…

Please review!

MTLBYAKY


	15. 15

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

**Chapter 15**

**XXXXX**

…Per Monica's instructions, Chandler tapped lightly on the window, hoping to gain her attention; it was only a few moments later when he saw her. Approaching quickly, she wiped her hands on the apron pinned around her waist before giving a little wave, which elicited a smile from Chandler.

A strand of hair had escaped her chef's hat, a little flour dotted her cheek, and to Chandler, she had never looked more adorable. She would look amazing dressed in nothing but a burlap sack, he thought to himself, waving back.

"Hey, you made it!" she exclaimed after working the locks and opening the door.

"Like I'd miss **this**," he said as he stepped in, wrapping his arms around her in a friendly hug. "You look so cute in your chef's hat," he whispered, his lips an inch away from her ear. He could feel her shiver in response, and that gave him an odd sense of accomplishment, knowing he had an effect on her.

"Um, thanks," she stuttered slightly, looking away and pointing towards the kitchen. "I'm still cooking, so, if you want…" She started walking away, in the direction she had just motioned in, and so he followed her, suppressing a knowing smile.

The contact was so simple, yet she was flustered. It was going to be an interesting night.

**XXX**

…Ross just wasn't backing down, and Rachel was running out of ideas on how to get him to just give it up and go home.

"Why do you always assume the worst, Ross?" Rachel questioned him, exasperation showing through. "I told you, she's fine! She's just working late, is all."

"Then why isn't she answering the phone?" Ross challenged her. "The restaurant phone **or** her cell phone? How is she going to get home? Is she there alone, or is someone there with her? And if someone **is**, are **they** going to give her a ride? And for that matter," he added, "If someone **is** there with her, why aren't **they** answering the phone?"

"My God, Ross, do you hear yourself? You're taking this 'big brother' thing a little too far here," she scolded, beyond ready to end this particular conversation. "She's not answering the phone because it's after hours, ok? And she probably just forgot to charge her cell phone again." She pushed up off the couch, as much to convey that she was done arguing with him as to escape. "I told her to call if she needed a ride, so if she **needs a ride**, she'll call."

Ross watched as she stomped into the bathroom, shutting the door a little harder than needed, then he turned to Phoebe, who had said nothing since his questioning began. So eerily and uncharacteristically quiet, he almost forgot she was there.

"I care about my sister, is that so wrong?" he asked her, and she paused before answering.

"I know- **WE** know, you do, but, she's not a child anymore, Ross. You have to let her live her own life a little."

"So, you're against me too," he muttered, sounding hurt and disappointed as he grabbed his coat, then headed for the door. "I'll talk to you later."

"Ross! Wait! I didn't mean-" The door slammed before she could finish, and she groaned quietly as she left the dining table and shuffled over to the bathroom.

She knocked first, then asked through the door, "And why exactly are we keeping this from Ross?"

"Monica's wishes," Rachel called back, and then Phoebe heard the toilet flush and the sink faucet turn on.

"You know how much Ross hates Chandler," she added, opening the door and stepping out a few moments later. "Monica just doesn't want the grief right now."

"Seems to me, he'd be totally on board," Phoebe surmised as she followed Rachel over to the couch, taking a seat as she continued. "What with the total humiliation planned for Chandler at the end of all this."

"He hates him, yes, but Monica thinks he would object to her spending all that time with him," Rachel explained. "That she wouldn't be able to remain impartial and stay on plan."

"And are **we** so sure she can?" Phoebe asked, to which Rachel shrugged.

"Well, I was sure before, but I'm starting to have my doubts."

"Why? What happened?"

"She made some comments, is all," she told her, downplaying the seriousness a little. "Like, she says he really **has** changed, and with everything he's been through, it seems cruel to continue."

"Well, yeah," Phoebe agreed, "He **has** changed, but I thought we didn't care about that?"

"I think she's starting to care." Rachel sighed, and even though she tried to hide it, Phoebe could sense she was worried about their mutual friend.

"So, does that mean we're not going through with it now?"

"Well, she told me she wanted to continue," Rachel informed, the fact that she was unsure of the sincerity of it obvious in her tone, "But she seemed hesitant."

"Then, is it such a good idea that she spend time with him?" Phoebe asked, feeling ill at ease. "What if she falls for him again?"

**XXX**

…"My God, this is amazing!" Chandler exclaimed as he took the first bite of the meal Monica had prepared for him. "I mean, not that you weren't a fantastic actress, but, I think you found your calling, for sure!"

She smiled awkwardly, and he wondered if he had overstepped his bounds based on her reaction. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "Was that a dumb thing to say? I do that sometimes, say the most wrongest thing at the most wrongest time."

"No, it's fine," she assured him, smiling wider, hoping her expression would support the statement. Truth was, but of course she couldn't tell him the truth, was that she was feeling guilty. Guilty, knowing all this was supposed to be part of an elaborate plan to woo, then humiliate him.

**The Plan**. She wasn't even the one who came up with it, Rachel was. She wasn't even sure why or when she had agreed to go along with it. She just remembered having a lot to drink that night, and anger flaring when long-past memories and stories were dredged up, but in her inebriated mind, she never thought Rachel's drunken ideas would amount to anything more than just a few laughs. How wrong she was.

Now, telling Rachel she wanted out would prove difficult. Sure, if she told her she wanted out, she would let her out, and the plan would come to an abrupt end, but then Rachel would expect her to stop seeing Chandler. She didn't want to do that.

Truth was, she was enjoying her time with Chandler. A lot. More than she probably should, knowing everyone she was either related to or friends with, hated the man.

As long as she claimed to be on board with the plan, she could continue to see Chandler without any arguments or hassles. She would think of something later - for now, she just didn't want to think about it at all.

"It's fine," she repeated. "I'm glad you like it."

"Like it? I **love** it! This is the best meal I have ever eaten!"

Humility prevented her from accepting the compliment fully, so instead, she muttered, "You're just trying to flatter me."

"Well, maybe," he admitted, "But in this case, it's true!"

The word was like a knife, stabbing into her conscience and without thinking it through, she found herself asking, "That's important to you, isn't it? Honesty."

"Well, yeah. I spent so many years lying, and being lied to… It's something I just don't compromise with anymore."

He would never understand, the situation she was knee-deep in. Even if she were to come clean at that very moment, he would walk away from her. From **them**, or the prospect of **them**, and she just couldn't chance it.

"I understand your reasoning," she said softly, "But, I mean, you **never** lie? Even, like, little white lies? Like telling a friend you like her outfit, even though you don't, just to spare her feelings?"

Chandler placed his fork on his plate and gazed back at her. "To spare someone's feelings, then, I would be careful what I said, but I wouldn't exactly lie."

"You wouldn't **exactly** lie?" she questioned him, and he immediately went on to explain.

"Right, like, if a friend asked me, what do you think of this outfit, and I didn't like it, I would say something like, that's a nice color, or, someone treated themselves to a new outfit, what's the occasion?" He picked up his fork once again and stabbed a piece of meat. "Stuff like that."

"Wow," she near-whispered, spending newfound attention on her own meal. "Sounds like you're a hard man to keep up with, morally speaking."

"Monica," he chuckled softly, "It's not a competition. This is a self-imposed morality, as a way of turning from that person I used to be. I don't expect every person I come in contact with to have or need the same self-imposed principals."

The smile she returned seemed strained to him, prompting him to ask, "Monica, is there something you want to tell me?"

It was almost as if her heart stopped for a moment, and she was sure she was showing either fear or guilt in her eyes. Panicking, she blurted out the first words that hit her mind…

**TBC…**

Because I'm moving, I'm going to be without internet access from Friday May 20th till about Thursday May 26th, so I'm posting this chapter **now**, so you don't have to wait till I get my access back to read more on this story!

See how nice I am? So, be nice back and please leave a review!

MTLBYAKY


	16. 16

The One With The Biz

**By: Jana**

Chapter Sixteen 

**XXXXX**

…Panicking, Monica blurted out the first words that hit her mind…

"I don't want to be friends."

It wasn't planned; it was a moment of weakness, and nothing more, but that aside, he didn't react the way she thought he would. He just sat there, staring back at her, with an almost hurt expression on his face.

It seemed like forever, before he finally spoke up. "Um… ok?" It was more like a question, and that just served to confuse her further.

"Ok?" she asked, repeated, his odd behavior causing her to temporarily forget about the mistake she just made in telling him her feelings in the first place.

"Well, yeah," he answered back. "I can't say I'm not disappointed, but, I will respect your wishes."

Her brow furrowed; he wasn't making sense.

"Was that what **this** was?" he asked, referring to the dinner and 'date'. "To soften the blow or something?"

"Wait. What?"

Now he seemed just as perplexed as she did, rather than hurt. "What?" he repeated, both paying close attention to the other, like the longer they stared, the more the other's words and actions would start making sense.

It took a few moments, but Monica finally decided that her revelation must not have come out as she had intended. "What did you just hear me say?" she asked, and a smile started to creep across her face, then his.

"You said, I don't want to be friends."

When she started to laugh, he followed suit. It was a misunderstanding, he realized, and it was like a huge crushing body blow had just happened, but in reverse.

"That's not what I meant to say," she told him, the smile on her face changing to something a bit more serious. "I **meant** to say, I don't want to be **just** friends."

Relieved, he sighed, reaching across the table to place his hand on hers. "Ok," he said with a smirk, and her wide smile returned at his good-humored response.

But as quickly as the relief came, it was snatched away again. She pulled her hand away swiftly, leaving her chair in favor of pacing; sitting felt too constricting at that moment.

"Oh, God," she groaned softly, "I shouldn't have said it." The misunderstanding cleared up, it gave way for her brain to really consider the damage she had just done with her ill-timed declaration.

He didn't know how to feel, watching her; she was all over the emotional map. One second, she seemed fine, and willing to maybe start up a relationship with him, then the next second, she seemed confused and terrified at the very thought of it.

Did she **not** understand that he felt the same as her, he wondered? "Why?" he asked her, placing his hands on her shoulders to stop her frenzied movement. But she jumped away from his touch, startling him, creating more questions. "Monica, what?" What was she not telling him?

"It's, complicated," she said after an eternity of silence. "I shouldn't have said it. I shouldn't even be **feeling** it!"

"Who's to say?" he questioned; she wasn't acting like herself, and it was scaring him.

My brother. My friends. The logical-thinking side of my brain. She answered his question, but in her mind only. What had she just gotten herself into? Her mind elsewhere, she almost didn't hear him ask her, "Is this because of our history together?"

It was a neutral, nicer way of asking, 'is this because I was an asshole to you all those years ago?'

She shook her head, 'no', still pacing, avoiding eye contact with him. It felt to her, like she was on a sinking ship without a lifeboat or preserver.

He ascertained by that response, that her tension must have to do with her uncertainty about his feelings for her. "You do realize," he offered, "That I feel the same way, right?"

"But you **shouldn't**," she shot back, sounding almost angry and definitely frustrated. "**I** shouldn't! **You** shouldn't! **We** shouldn't!"

"Shouldn't **what**?" He was almost pleading with her to make sense.

"Shouldn't be having these feelings! It's too complicated. People- People will get hurt."

"You're afraid I will hurt you." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"No," she replied, eyes downcast, her tone of voice expressing the shame she was feeling. "I'm afraid **I** will hurt **you**."

"Monica," he whispered, stepping closer to her and lifting her face with a simple touch of a finger under her chin, "You could never hurt me."

"So sure are you," she whispered back, still avoiding eye contact.

He didn't answer her with words, instead, he leaned in and gently kissed her. Every fiber of her being was telling her to stop - back away - end it before it went too far, but it felt too perfect. Common sense ended as soon as his lips touched hers.

**XXX**

…"How did we get off the 'Regina Philange' part of the plan anyway?" Phoebe asked Rachel, realizing she had never really been updated on the plan change.

"Monica and I got to talking about it, and figured that one of two things was bound to happen. Either Chandler would eventually figure out who she was, or, at some point, Joey would be introduced to her and **he** would recognize her. So, we decided to test it, arrange a 'chance meeting' and see if Joey would figure it out. He did," Rachel added with a shrug.

"So now, it's just about Monica getting Chandler to fall for her, so she can publicly humiliate him?"

"Pretty much," Rachel answered. "And we have the place, but the time is going to depend on how quickly Chandler falls for her."

"If at all," Phoebe added, verbalizing a worst-case scenario situation.

"Oh, he will," Rachel stated with complete confidence.

"How can you be so sure?" Phoebe questioned her certainty.

"Well, Joey for one thing."

"Joey for one thing, what?"

"He actually told me that Chandler is into her."

"He did? When?"

"Right before you came in with all your psychic mumbo-jumbo."

"It's not 'mumbo-jumbo', Rachel," Phoebe defended. "I meant what I said."

"You **meant** what you said?" Rachel repeated. "You really think Chandler is a great guy?" Phoebe nodded. "Then why are you helping us to humiliate him?"

"Because, Monica seemed to want to do it, for closure or something," she explained. "I'm doing it for Monica."

"So am I," Rachel shot back, taking slight offense to what she **thought** Phoebe was insinuating.

"Are you sure?" she asked, then grabbed her purse from beside her and stood, heading out the door.

**XXX**

…Joey checked his watch for the umpteenth time, more nervous for Chandler than he had ever been on any of his own dates, ever. Dating for Chandler, from the time he was sober till currently, was pretty much nonexistent.

There was a scene he had done in a TV show a year or so back, where his character's son was about to go on his first date, and the current situation reminded him a lot of it. That was almost what Chandler had become to him, at least as far as some things were concerned.

Dating was definitely one of those things.

It was getting late, but that was a good sign, in Joey's mind. If the date were going badly, Chandler would've been home already.

When the phone rang, it surprised Joey, causing him to startle.

He half expected Chandler to be on the other line, so instead of the standard 'hello?' greeting, he answered the phone with, "Hey."

"Chandler Bing, please."

It wasn't Chandler; he could tell that straight away, but there **was** something familiar about the voice, prompting him to ask, "May I ask who's calling?"

The answer made him gasp, the name instantaneously recognizable to him. Instead of responding, he abruptly hung up the phone.

"Shit," he whispered to himself, jumping when the phone began ringing again. Without answering it, he unplugged it from the jack, the pulsing sound dropping out of the air.

"Shit!" he said again, louder, then slammed his hand on the counter.

Any sense of optimism, about Chandler and Monica, about them dating, or even being friends, was about to be shattered.

**XXX**

…Saneness inched in, sobering her quickly, and Monica pushed away as she realized a line that shouldn't have crossed had been.

"This can't happen," she told him, putting distance between the two of them.

"Why?" he asked, physically feeling the loss of her not being in his arms any longer.

Breathing heavily, she shook her head; there was no way to answer his question, and she knew she was sending him mixed signals, but that would have to end, and immediately.

"It's complicated," she said, again, for the third time that evening, but before Chandler could question her on exactly what she meant by that, an abrupt noise startled them both.

"Monica! It's Ross!" The words were preceded and followed by the sounds of banging on the door. "Open up!"

Monica suddenly looked horrified as she stared at Chandler. Looking back at her for a moment, he took a step to move past her, to peek beyond the wall that separated him and Monica from the front door and the man making all the racket, but before he could take a second step, she pulled him back and away, out of sight.

"He can't see you!" she whispered harshly, anxiously. "You have to hide!"

With a scowl, he asked, "Hide? Why? Where?"

Harried, she exclaimed almost silently, "The one place he won't look!"

**TBC…**

Please review!

MTLBYAKY


	17. 17

**The One With The Biz**

**By: Jana**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**XXXXXX**

…"He can't see you!" she whispered harshly, anxiously. "You have to hide!"

With a scowl, he asked, "Where?"

Obviously stressed, she exclaimed, "The one place he won't look!"

"And where's that? He asked with slight fear." His quip fell on deaf ears.

"The woman's restroom. He has a thing about it, even if there are no women around. Ever since he accidentally, while drunk, staggered into a woman's restroom at some Mexican restaurant," she explained, all while dragging him behind her towards the restaurant's facilities.

"And for how long am I hiding?"

Apologetically, she breathed, "I'll try to get rid of him as quickly as I can." When she heard Ross banging again on the front door, she gave Chandler a slight push into the bathroom and spun around, hearing him murmur, 'elementary school flashback.'

She couldn't help but smile, but she quickly wiped it from her face as she neared the door, seeing a tense Ross through the window.

"Why are you here?" she asked as she worked the locks and opened the door, sounding out of breath and exasperated.

"Why are **you**?" he asked, turning the figurative tables on her, not waiting for an invitation or even for her to move aside before marching in, looking around. For what, Monica wasn't quite sure.

"I had stuff to do, Ross," she barked back, following him into the dining area. When he saw the dinner set up for two on the table closest to the kitchen door, he turned around, challenging her wordlessly, and she rolled her eyes in response.

"What's **this**?" he confronted her. "Who's here?"

"No one, **now**," she lied.

"Then who **was** here?" He sounded aggravated with her. "Whom were you having dinner with?"

"No one," she lied again. "Two on my waiter/waitressing team are in a relationship, and I made them a romantic meal, ok, **Ross**?" His name was said with animosity, and he picked up on it immediately.

"Where are they now, then?"

"They **left**!" she snapped. "About 15 minutes ago! I was just about to clean up and head for home!"

"Alone?" he screeched. "At **this** hour?"

"No," she returned with sarcastic anger, "**Next** hour, when I'm done cleaning up!"

He threw her a look that said 'I'm not amused', then added, "It's not safe for you to be walking at this time of night alone."

"You do it," she announced as she started gathering dishes and trash from the table her and Chandler had just been sitting at.

"I'm a **man**," he shot back, and glared at her when he heard her chuckle.

"Whatever, Ross," she mumbled as she entered the kitchen. "I have stuff to do, so, if you could just-"

"I'm not leaving here while you're still here, **alone**!" he interrupted, and she set the dishes down a little harder than she'd meant to in response.

"I'm not a child, ok? I can make it home on my own, without your help!"

"I wasn't asking for your opinion, Monica! I'm walking you home, whether you like it or not, and that's final!"

Without acknowledging him, she stormed past him and back into the diningroom to collect the rest of the dishes and such from the table. Glancing towards the bathroom discreetly, she checked to see if Chandler was out of sight; she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized he was.

"So now you're giving me the silent treatment?" Ross asked his sister, and she huffed, exhaling sharply. "Fine, be a child about it," he mumbled in return, grabbing the wine glasses from off the table and following behind her. "You never used to care that I was protective of you."

"You never used to stalk me at my work," she answered back distantly.

"Oh, please, Monica," he scoffed, "I'm not **stalking** you!"

"Showing up at my work after hours to spy on me **is** stalking, Ross!"

He sighed, stepping up to the sink beside her to help stack the few dishes into the industrial-sized dishwasher. "I wish you would just tell me what's really wrong, here," he muttered softly, almost dejectedly. "You used to be able to talk to me about anything. Everything. But, something's changed."

"Nothing's changed," she told her brother awkwardly, struggling between feeling guilty and being annoyed with him. "And the only things I've been able to ever talk to you about, are things we happen to agree on. If I try talking to you about things you **don't** agree with, it's not a conversation as much as an argument."

"So, not only am I over-protective, and a stalker, I'm also belligerent!"

"Are you stating facts, or were you expecting an argument?" The tone and words spat out more hostile than she'd meant them to, but it was too late to take it back, and she sure wasn't about to apologize to him. He was standing on her last thin thread of patience.

"Wow," he snipped, "In heat?" It was his way of calling her a bitch without actually saying the word, and instead of setting the rinsed frying pan on the counter for him to tend to, she slammed it down hard, letting him know just how she felt about his little insult.

"Don't dish it out if you can't take it," was his advice, spoken with a 'high-and-mighty' tone Monica had always despised.

"Have I done something to make you hate me all of the sudden?" she asked, and he responded instantly with, "Have **I**?"

"I don't hate you, Ross. It's just, I'm trying to live my life here, with my own plans and ideas for how it should go, and I'm just tired of always being a disappointment to **someone**. You, Mom… Whoever," she added after trailing off.

"You're not a disappointment to me, Mon."

"Not now, maybe," she said as she handed him the last dish to be put in the dishwasher, than grabbed a towel to dry her hands. "But, what if I do something you don't approve of?"

"Like what?"

"Does it matter, **what**?"

"You obviously have something in mind," he deduced. "Or you wouldn't be acting like this, or bringing the subject up."

"Maybe I do, but that's a conversation for another time."

After pushing the dishwasher rack back in and shutting the door, he physically turned her, facing her straight on. "What, Monica? What do you want to do, that you think I will disapprove of?"

"Nothing specific," she lied, a heavy sigh following. This wasn't the time and place for this conversation, but she knew getting Ross to drop it without getting answers was going to be near impossible. "Can we do this later, please? It's been a long day, and I really just want to get home and go to bed, so I can wake up tomorrow and do it all again."

"That's fine," he agreed just to keep the peace, mostly, "Just so long as we finish this later."

"Yes, Ross," she breathed, sounding agitated. "Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, ok?"

When she started to walk away, he pulled her back, turning her to face him once again. "Are we ok?"

She tried for a smile, it looking strained since she was feeling at least that. "Yeah," she assured him, "We're fine. Just tired and grumpy, for the most part."

He nodded, then gestured for her to lead the way to the exit door of the restaurant. A few paces from the door, she stopped, remembering Chandler in the bathroom.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick, ok?"

The abruptness of her announcement sent up a warning flag, and instinctively, he took a step to follow her, but she stopped him before he could take a second one.

"I think I can manage going to the bathroom on my own, ok? Just, wait here. I'll be back in a sec."

For a moment, she almost thought he was going to follow her, but when she glanced behind her, he was standing by the door, his eyes roaming around like he was checking out the style and ambiance of the establishment for the first time.

Away from one man and one problem, and onto another.

Opening the door quickly, and closing it the same, she immediately spotted Chandler sitting on the edge of one of the bathroom sinks, his legs dangling off the edge, swinging to and fro.

"I am **so** sorry." She started off with the apology, her pleading eyes and tone telling him that she was nothing if not sincere.

First hopping down, he stared back at her for a moment before asking, "Ross is the complication you keep referring to, isn't he?"

"Among other things," she whispered in response, hoping he would lower his voice to the same octave. "I don't have time to explain any of that right now, ok? I'm going to have to leave with Ross. There's no way I can get around it, but, he still can't see you!"

"So that leaves the dilemma of how **I** will be exiting, right?"

She nodded, then added, "It's not hard, but it **is** time sensitive."

"What is?" he asked.

"Your escape plan."

**XXXXX**

**TBC**…

Please leave a review!

MTLBYAKY


	18. 18

**The One With The Biz **

**By: Jana**

**Chapter Eighteen **

**XXXXX**

…"My escape **plan**?" Chandler asked incredulously. "This feels like a bad spy movie to me now," he added; an attempt at a joke, but Monica took it seriously.

"I'm so, **so** sorry," she apologized once again. "I'll make this up to you, I promise," she told him, checking behind her at the door nervously. "I have to go. Ross will come looking for me if I take too long."

"If I didn't know Ross was your brother, I would have guessed him to be a jealous ex-boyfriend or something."

Glancing back once again, she whispered urgently, "I can't explain it to you now, ok? Just, trust me?"

She'd asked him to trust her - what irony. She was the **last** person he should be trusting.

There was a slight flinch of a reaction from her as he took a step forward, but when his hand slowly raked through her hair, her immediate concerns about Ross, the plan, or her deception to everyone involved seemed to melt away.

And then his lips touched hers, and she almost whimpered as she sunk into the dizzying sensation of it all. When he pulled back, she almost forgot how to open her eyes, or even breathe.

As her eyes fluttered open, and found his staring back, reality found her.

"The plan?" he whispered, and she nodded, attempting to clear her head by taking a step back and away from him.

"When we leave," she started, "I will have to set the alarm. Once I do, that gives you exactly one minute to leave before it sets for good. You'll hear a chirping sound – that's the one-minute warning. I will rush out the front door as fast as I can, to give **you** as much time as possible to get out. As soon as I'm out the front door, and you hear it shut, move as fast as you can through the kitchen to the back door."

"It's the kind of door that locks automatically once closed," she continued, racing on to explain. "If you can get out the door and shut it so that it locks before the final chirp – before it sets for good, we're home free. If you **don't** get out in time, a silent alarm will trigger, and the police will show up."

"We want to avoid that," he half quipped, though his words were gravely accurate.

"Monica!" It was Ross' voice, calling from the other room, and it prompted Monica to lower her voice to an even slighter whisper.

"I gotta go," she told Chandler. "Back door, at the back of the kitchen, but wait till you hear the door shut, ok? I'll try to slam it a bit loud."

Chandler only nodded, watching as she stepped into one of the stalls, flushed the toilet, then moved to the sink to wash her hands.

"He notices everything," she explained when she realized he was looking at her in what she would describe as disbelief. Knowing Ross as well as she did, she knew if he didn't hear the toilet flush, or see that her hands had been freshly washed, he would question her as to what she had been doing.

Just as she was moving to leave, he grabbed her hand, stopping her, asking, "When can I see you again?"

She shrugged, then asked him, "When does your shift start tomorrow?"

"Two P.M.," he answered with a smile, calling a smile to her face as well.

"I'll be there," she promised, then gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away and walking out the door.

He could hear her talking to Ross, defending herself about the length of time she had just spent in the bathroom, and something about him waiting outside while she set the alarm. Then he heard the chirp, followed by her slamming the door.

Only waiting a few moments longer, he quickly sprinted out of the bathroom, headed for the kitchen, then toward the back door. He bolted through the door, slamming it shut seconds before hearing the final chirp of the alarm setting.

He'd made it. A shallow victory, really, seeing as how he was hoping for a different outcome to the evening entirely. Still, he guessed it would be something they would laugh about later.

Stepping up to the opening of the alleyway he found himself in, he peeked around the corner, seeing where Monica and Ross were. He could see them in the distance, and felt it was safe enough to head for home, in the opposite direction of brother and sister.

**XXX**

…All he wanted to do was drop into bed and sleep for a week, but when Chandler entered the apartment, and saw the expression on Joey's face, he knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Looks like we both had a bad night," Chandler mumbled as he shut the door and turned the deadbolt to lock it.

"Dude," Joey urgently began, "I want to hear all about the date, but, me first."

"You first, what?" Chandler asked, confused. He didn't remember Joey saying anything about having a date.

"I had to disconnect the phone! He wouldn't stop calling!"

For a brief moment, he wondered if the 'he' Joey was referring to was Ross, but then asked, "He, who?"

Shaking his head, Joey announced, "You are **not** gonna like this."

**XXX**

…Monica stopped him before he could step in; she'd had enough of her brother for one night.

"Ross," she said as she stood in the way of his entering her apartment. "Your duty is done, ok? I'm **home**, and now you need to go to yours."

"You're actually telling me, I'm not welcome in your home anymore?" he asked, hurt, and a little angry.

"No, I'm saying you're not welcome **tonight**. Tomorrow, you can come over."

Irritated, he huffed, turning his back as he muttered, "Not liking this."

She rolled her eyes, shutting the door as she did. Not even three steps in, and Rachel was out of her bedroom, approaching quickly.

"Well? What happened?" she demanded to know, and Monica groaned in response. "That bad, huh?"

"Ross showed up!" Monica exclaimed, as if that and that alone was enough information to sum everything up. Of course, that was too little for someone like Rachel, who often needed every detail of any given situation to be even remotely satisfied.

"Oh no!" Rachel exclaimed, "What did he say when he saw Chandler? Is everything ruined?"

"He didn't see Chandler," Monica answered. "I had him hide."

Rachel cocked an eyebrow, "Where?"

"In the women's restroom."

Rachel had to laugh. "Yeah, Ross would never go in there," she contributed to the tale. "Not after the whole La Fiesta fiasco."

Monica couldn't help but smile, but it dropped when she continued. "I don't even know if Chandler got out ok."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked, shocked. "You mean you left him there? Chandler?"

"I had to!" Monica shot back, defending herself. "I couldn't let Ross see him!"

"So what, is he supposed to wait till morning, till someone shows up to let him out?"

"No," Monica returned with an irritated tone. "I told him how to get out, and that he had one minute before the alarm set. But, I don't know if he was successful or not."

"So, call him," Rachel suggested, but Monica remained quiet as she dropped herself down on her soft couch. "Or, call the police department," she added as she joined her tired friend, sitting next to her.

Monica shook her head. "That would be too hard to explain, and would raise flags I don't want raised." After a moment, she mumbled, "I guess I could call the alarm company."

"Would they tell you anything? Is Head Chef high enough rank that they would let you know what was going on?"

Monica hummed for a second or two while she gave that thought. "Hmmm; probably not. Guess I'm calling Chandler, then," she added as she grabbed the phone off the home base, located on the end table beside her.

**XXX**

…Chandler just assumed Joey was overreacting, as his friend tended to do that at times. Still, he humored him. "What am I not going to like?" Chandler asked him, his tone remaining neutral.

"Remember Brett Stanley?" Joey announced, almost willing Chandler to join him in his state of panic, but the only immediate response he received, was the widening of Chandler's eyes.

**TBC**…

Please leave a review. Seriously. A few words… maybe a small sentence or two. It would be most appreciated.

MTLBYAKY ... May The Lord Bless You And Keep You


	19. 19

The One With The Biz

Chapter Nineteen

By: Jana

**XXXXX**

Chandler saw her car approach the gate, and his work became second to him as his mind and heart raced. Leaving the car ahead of her for his partner to tend to, he stepped out of the guard shack and headed in her direction.

"I see you got out alright," Monica said with a guilty smile. "Sorry about all that."

The expression he responded with could only be described as mock-anger, a slight grin hiding behind a furrowed brow. "Go through the gate and park on the far right," he instructed, then turned and walked away from her, back into the guard shack.

As the car in front of her moved forward, she followed, in through the gates and to the right as he had said; she could see him in her rearview mirror, nearing in, and she quickly cut the engine and stepped out of her vehicle to meet him.

"You have every right to be angry with me," she started off, rambling in apology, "But, please, don't be. I had no choice! Ross showed up…"

"Ross," Chandler interrupted. "The name is like an aural enema."

"He means well," she weakly defended her brother, "He's just, a little too…"

"Intense? Insane? Inappropriately protective?" he offered, receiving an off-look from her in response.

"I was **going** to say, he's a little too **involved**," she snipped back, but quickly caught herself and put her emotions back in check. "Sorry," she said softly, "It's a bit of a sore spot with me. He's my brother, and I love him, but lately, he's been… well, hard to like."

He nodded, but just slightly, then, feeling like he needed permission first, he asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she answered, a little bit perplexed by the formality he was showing.

"Is Ross…" He trailed off, wanting to find the right and tactful way of forming the question. "Is Ross, like, abusive? To you?"

Taking her by surprise, she hesitated before responding, her brain needing a moment to process the full meaning of the inquiry. "No. Ross isn't abusive, to me or anyone. Why would you ask such a question?"

To him, she sounded like she was upset by the accusation, but he also felt as if she was possibly covering for her brother as well. In an effort not to irritate her further, he simply said, "You just seem a bit tense when it comes to him, so I wondered."

"I am tense, when it comes to my brother," she admitted, "But believe me, he's not the hitting type."

"What about verbal abuse?" He certainly knew enough by her previous response, not to suggest sexual abuse.

"No," she insisted, "I just care too much about his opinion, is what it comes down to."

"I see," he muttered, leaning against her car, his eyes finding the white line on the blacktop that indicated the break in the parking space. "And his opinion of me?"

"He doesn't know about you yet," she said in response, and he scowled as he looked up at her questioningly. "He knows you exist," she clarified, "And that I ran into you here at the studio, but he doesn't know we've become friends."

"Friends?" he asked, his expression changing, blue eyes finding hers as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, fully facing him.

"More than that would kill him, I'm afraid," she told him, staring back at him.

"So, what does that mean for us?" His question caused her to sigh and look away. "You would throw this away, or the possibility of 'this' away, just because of his narrow-mindedness?" he challenged her, and she took several steps away from him, her back to him when she could no longer bear looking at the 'hurt puppy' look on his face.

"I don't know," she mumbled finally. "I sure don't want to, but, I feel torn right now. Ross helped me so much back then, when you hurt me, and it almost feels like I'm cheating on him, with you…" She spun around as she left the sentence unfinished, and found that he had closed the gap between them. Surprised, she almost fell into him, but she regained her footing, only needing one hand upon his shoulder to steady herself.

"I know I'm not making any sense," she told him, her gaze moving from where their bodies connected to his eyes. So mesmerized by him, she didn't realize until it was too late to react, that he was leaning in to kiss her.

"**This** is what makes sense," he whispered against her cheek as his lips grazed her skin.

She couldn't argue the point. She couldn't even think straight. And she had no way of knowing, nor did Chandler, that they were being watched.

**XXX**

Phoebe walked in, which was something not at all uncommon, but her reaction to Rachel was, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"Hey, Pheebs," Rachel greeted her as she flipped through a fashion magazine. "How was your day?"

Her entrance into the apartment stopped abruptly, staring back at her in surprise, rather than greeting her in return. "I thought you were working today," Phoebe finally managed to stammer, seemingly uncomfortable with her surroundings as well as her own voice.

"I got off early," she explained, then asked as she folded her magazine closed, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Phoebe lied, then forced a smile. "Is Monica here?"

"No, she took an extra long lunch break, so she's working late to make up the time. Why?" she asked, pushier than before. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Phoebe lied again, almost sounding offended by the inquiry. "Just have a cooking question for her, is all."

Rachel didn't seem at all convinced, and her eyes narrowed as she continued to stare at her friend.

"You know something," she challenged Phoebe after a moment. "It's written all over your face."

An expression crossed Phoebe's face that looked to Rachel like an admittance of guilt, but almost as soon as it showed itself, it disappeared.

Scoffing, she made a sound of dismissal. "Oh, Rachel, I'm the psychic one, remember? I don't tell you how to dress, don't pretend to know anything about my gifts."

Without waiting for a response, Phoebe turned and headed for the door, adding as an afterthought, "Tell Monica I came by, and will talk to her later."

The door slammed shut before Rachel could utter a word, and Phoebe scowled back at the wood that separated them for a second or two before stepping away; the reason for her visit would have to change locations.

**XXX**

The last of the patrons were on their way out as Phoebe approached the door, the waitress ready to inform her that they were closed for the night before she was recognized.

"I'm just here to see Monica," Phoebe explained, the woman standing in her way scooting aside almost instantly.

"She's in the kitchen," she was told simply, the waitress shutting and locking the door after Phoebe moved through it.

Monica smiled when she saw her, surprised. "Hey, Pheebs! Whatcha doin here so late?"

Wanting her undivided attention when she had the much-needed talk with her, Phoebe opted on lying… for now. "Was in the neighborhood, thought maybe you'd like company on your walk home," she answered breezily. "And maybe we could go grab a cup of coffee?"

Having no clue of the secrets her blond friend held, she responded just as casually with, "Sure! Sounds fun!"

**XXX**

The conversation they shared on the walk over to Central Perk was light and free from Chandler or any other heavy subjects. As Monica chirped on happily, Phoebe struggled with how she was going to even begin to tell her what she knew she had to. She was about to cause her friend pain, and upset the balance of all the four friends had built over the years.

Her friend since childhood had no idea she carried with her for thirteen years, a secret so big, nothing would ever be the same after it was released.

"Are you even listening to me, Pheebs?"

Monica's voice called her back into the presence. "Yeah, sorry," she apologized. "I have a dilemma that's been on my mind."

"Oh, well," Monica offered sincerely, "Want to talk about it?"

"I do," she answered as she saw they were approaching the coffee house, "But let's get settled with a nice warm cup of coffee before we get into it, k?"

Monica agreed easily, more than just a little bit curious about what was plaguing Phoebe's mind.

**XXX**

"Dude, you can't avoid him forever!" Joey announced, urging his friend to listen to reason.

Chandler just walked past him, heading for his chair with his plate of warmed up pizza.

"Doesn't that sound drive you nuts?!" Joey asked him, pointing at the phone, frazzled. "He fills up the answering machine faster than I can erase his messages!"

"He's trying to **pester** me into taking his call. I will **NOT** play his game, Joey!" Chandler snapped in response. "Change the phone number, if you want! Turn off the ringer! Get an answering service!"

"He'll find any new number we get, Chandler!" he barked back.

"I **can't** talk to him, ok?! He has a way of taking anything and everything you say to fit his agenda, and still manage to stay within the ledger of the law! Ignoring him is the **only** way!" Chandler assured, irritated. "He'll get bored and move on," he surmised. "Eventually."

Joey sighed, moving towards the phone. "I hope you're right," he muttered, sliding the dial on the side of the phone's base, the annoying sound dropping from the tense air as he did. "What does he want with you anyways?" he asked as he headed for the bathroom, not waiting for a response.

Chandler watched as his friend disappeared behind the door, mumbling, "I wish I knew."

**TBC**


	20. 20

The One With The Biz 

Chapter Twenty

By: Jana Lantz

**XXX**

Phoebe and Monica placed their orders with Gunther, the long-time manager of the local coffee house, the place near-empty since it was so close to closing time. But that was a good thing, in Phoebe's eyes. The fewer people the better, since she was sure her news to Monica would elicit a strong reaction, and therefore catch the attention of anyone who was around them.

"So," Monica began as they both sat on the ratty orange couch they knew so well. "What's this dilemma you have?"

Phoebe prepared herself mentally, turning slightly to better face her friend. "I have something I need to tell someone, but if I do, it will change so many things, and not for the good."

"So, you're wondering if you should tell them at all then?" Monica surmised. "Is that it?"

"Well, not exactly," she answered cryptically. "I already know I need to, even if I don't want to."

"Phoebe," Monica near-whispered in response, "This is about **me**, isn't it? The someone you need to talk to, is me, right?"

"I'm afraid so," she sighed, looking away for a moment.

"Ok," Monica announced quietly, gaining Phoebe's attention. "Let's get it over with then. What is it you need to tell me?"

"First of all," Phoebe began, "How serious is this thing with Chandler?"

"What do you mean?" Monica feigned ignorance. "I'm just seeing him cause it's part of-"

"The plan," Phoebe interrupted. "I know the cover, Monica, but, what's the real deal?"

Several tense moments ticked by, Monica wondering if she should blow her cover and admit to Phoebe that her feelings for Chandler had indeed returned. Had they ever really left?

"I like him… a lot," she finally confessed, "But beyond that, I just don't know. It's complicated," she added pensively.

"Unfortunately," Phoebe added, "It's about to get even more so."

"Tell me, please," Monica pleaded. "You have me worried here, and I don't want to drag out whatever is about to come."

Taking a deep breath first, Phoebe gently announced the secret she'd had kept for 13 years.

"Back when you guys were filming that movie…" She hesitated, but only for a moment. She needed to rush on before she lost her nerve. "Monica, Chandler and Rachel slept together."

**XXX**

Ross entered with purpose, startling Rachel as the door flew open. "Where's Monica?" he demanded to know, not waiting for an answer before calling out. "Monica?!"

"She's not here!" Rachel snapped, joining him in his tone. "What the hell is the matter with you?" she added angrily. "You scared me half to death!"

"Sorry," he apologized, but he sounded anything but sincere. "Where is she?"

"She isn't home from work yet," she told him. "She took a long lunch and is making up the time now. Geez," she added, miffed, "Does anybody stop over to see **me** anymore?"

"Yeah, a long lunch," he snipped, ignoring her last sentence completely.

"What is **that** supposed to mean?" she asked, curious, sensing gossip.

"I saw her and Chandler," Ross informed, almost gloating. "She went to see **him** at lunch, at the studio, and they were **kissing**!"

Rachel immediately went into damage control mode, not wanting his overprotective nature to ruin the plan she and Monica had set in motion.

"It's not what you think," she announced, her brain racing for a way to explain without giving away too much.

"What the hell is **that** supposed to mean?" he barked, getting angrier by the moment.

"She's toying with him!" Rachel admitted the half-truth. "She's gonna slam him like he did **her**, all those years ago!"

"Oh, please, Rachel! I saw them! She's not that good an actor!"

Her own doubts set aside for the moment, she responded with, "Trust me, Ross. That's all it is. She's not falling for him," she assured him. "She's getting **him** to fall for **her**."

Ross huffed, upset, grabbing the coat he had just set on a diningroom chair moments before. "I **don't** like this! He shouldn't be in her life! At all! For **any** reason!" With that he stormed out the door, slamming it loudly in his wake.

With the yelling gone, Rachel could sit and think, to process the new-found information her angry friend had just left her with.

If Monica **was** falling for Chandler again, what did that mean for the plan?

**XXX**

Slowly, Chandler stood, walking to the kitchen and placing his plate in the sink. Staring at the phone first, he eventually approached it, almost timidly, then cautiously turned up the volume on the answering machine. The light atop it was blinking rapidly, cueing him in that there were dozens of messages yet to be heard.

He sighed deeply, pressing rewind, then when it stopped, he pressed play with hesitation.

"I know you're getting my messages, Bing," the familiar voice filled the air. "You know you can't avoid me forever! C'mon! I just want to talk to you. Off the record, if you want."

Chandler rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right."

"Just give me ten minutes," the voice implored. "I promise, it'll be painless."

Chandler slammed his hand down on the stop button, his whole body tense. When would he be allowed to live down his past? Why couldn't it stay there, where it belonged?

The display on the cordless phone lit up, indicating that there was a call coming in, even though with the ringer turned down, he couldn't hear it.

He snatched it off the base and hit talk, his teeth clenched as he answered it.

"Bing!" The voice caused Chandler to clench his fists.

"What do you want, Stanley?" he asked, unable to hide the disdain for the man in his tone.

"I see we're still a little miffed about that last article, eh, Bing?"

"Is **that** what you call that bit of trash you showed the world?" Chandler spat back.

"Hey, you know what they say," the man oozed, "There's no such thing as bad publicity."

"Unless you're the author," Chandler added with venom.

"C'mon," Brett moved on, "Cut me some slack, alright? I have a job to do, just like everybody else on this planet."

"I don't remember seeing liar and backstabber on your business card, **Stanley**," he shot back, his knuckles turning white from clenching his fist so hard. "What do you want from me?" he asked; his tone never betrayed his concern for the answer to come.

"An interview," came the man's response. "It's a **great** piece! A kind of, where are they now thing. Could get you back in the spotlight." He dangled it like a carrot in front of a racehorse.

"I don't **want** to be back in the spotlight!" Chandler snipped through gritted teeth. "I'm happy with my life, the way it is!"

"Oh, sure," Brett mocked. "Once the golden boy of Hollywood, now a lowly security guard. What's not to be happy about?"

"Leave me alone Brett," Chandler snapped. "Stop calling me! Stop leaving messages! Stop checking up on me!"

He was just ready to click the phone off, disconnecting the call when he heard, "Oh, I'm done with all my checking."

Chandler squeezed the phone tighter in his grip, then, in slow motion, put it back to his ear. "Just what is **that** supposed to mean?"

"I think you know what it means, Bing. And you **know** how good my resources are."

"What do you know?!" Chandler demanded to know, almost shaking from anger.

"You'll just have to meet with me to find out, won'tcha?"

Seething, Chandler squeaked out, "How do I know you're not bluffing?"

"Well, let's put it this way," the man stated with smug confidence, "If **you** won't talk to me, maybe Monica Geller will."

He knew about his relationship with Monica, Chandler realized, anger turning to concern. Monica had been through enough by his hands. He couldn't unleash Brett Stanley on her.

"You leave her out of this!" Chandler insisted, his voice losing its angry tone.

"I thought that would get your attention," Brett snickered.

"I'm warning you, Brett," Chandler threatened, his rage returning.

"It's real simple," Brett advised, cutting Chandler off. "Meet with me. Thirty minutes, and Monica never has to know I exist."

"How do I know you'll keep your promise?" Chandler asked, beaten.

"I'll sign a little note or something," Brett said dismissively. "Do we have a deal?"

Chandler slumped down onto the floor, his head hung low. "Meet me at the Burger Castle on Third in 20 minutes. You get 30 minutes, Stanley, and not a second more."

"Sure, Bing," he laughed. "Whatever you say."

With that he hung up, leaving Chandler with dead air on the other end before the operator's recording came on, telling him to hang up and try his call again.

He hit the off button, sliding the phone across the floor just as Joey exited the bathroom.

Joey watched the phone settle near the couch, then looked over at Chandler, who was still slumped onto the floor.

"What are you doing on the floor?" Joey asked, reaching down to pick up the discarded phone. "Were you on the phone just now? I thought I heard voices?"

Chandler looked up at his friend, his expression solemn. "You won't have to worry about the phone ringing off the hook any longer." He pushed himself off the floor and started heading for his room, adding, "I have to be somewhere in 20 minutes. I'll explain when I get back."

**XXX**

Monica just stared back for a moment, stunned, unsure of how to respond. Finally, she asked, "What are you talking about, Pheebs? I don't understand."

"I walked in on them, Monica. In Rachel's dressing room." Phoebe explained somberly. "They were kissing. She was topless. When he saw me, he looked angry, so I backed out. Rachel didn't see me," she added. "She doesn't even know I know."

"She knew I liked him," Monica said, near tears. "How could she do that to me?"

"Honey, I'm **so** sorry," Phoebe sympathized, "But, I think we have bigger problems."

Questioningly, Monica looked at her friend, tears welling in her eyes.

Phoebe sighed before explaining. "I think this plan of Rachel's, is more for her than for you."

**TBC**


	21. 21

The One With The Biz

Chapter Twenty-One

By: Jana

**XXX**

Checking his watch, Chandler approached the fast food establishment, his mind continuing to race. He knew, instinctively, and from past experience, that this interview would not be as simple as his adversary implied. It never was. Anything that was said to this man, would be warped and twisted, to sell magazines and further the self-proclaimed reporter's career.

He was doomed before he even began, he accepted despairingly, passing through the door and scanning the room for the man who now held the control in his hands.

"Bing! Right on time!" Brett waved at him, almost gleefully, and Chandler sighed as he headed for the booth he occupied.

Brett extended his hand, but Chandler only ignored the gesture as he slid into his seat. "Let's just get this over with, ok?"

Brett grinned as he retook his seat. "Falling from grace has changed you," he observed out loud, then flipped open his notebook and put pen to paper. "Mind if I record this?" he asked, nodding towards the little tape recorder on the table, and Chandler glared in response.

"Yeah, but somehow, I doubt that'll matter to you."

Brett smiled as he clicked the record button on the small device, wasting no time as he dove in with his questions.

**XXX**

Monica sat quietly for a moment, attempting to digest what had just been said to her. Everything she thought she knew seemed to change in the blink of an eye, and she was struggling to catch up.

"How can the plan be about Rachel?" she finally asked, tears pooling in her eyes as she slowly looked up at her friend.

Phoebe placed her hand on Monica's, trying to console her. "I think **she** wants revenge, and is using you to achieve that. I'm pretty sure the thing with Chandler," she added, "Ended badly."

Curiously, Monica asked, "What makes you think that?"

"Little things that were said," she divulged. "Back then, and now. Plus, you know, psychic thing," she added casually.

"Phoebe," Monica asked, miserable, "Will you help me? I'm not sure what to do now. What should I do?"

"Well," she returned, sitting a little straighter, knowing the answer to her question would be of the utmost importance. "Question is, really, can you forgive her?"

**XXX**

"Ok," Brett muttered as he jotted information down on paper, "We've just about covered the boring stuff. Now," he added arrogantly, "Let's jump into the juicy stuff." Chandler just glared back at him. "Tell me about that little stint in rehab."

Torn between getting up and leaving and delivering a right hook across the man's face, Chandler spat back, "There's nothing to tell."

"Oh, c'mon, Bing," Brett stated defiantly, "You don't check yourself into rehab without reason."

"I had a reason," he said in response, avoiding eye contact, poking at the fries he'd ordered, but hadn't touched.

"Which was?" Brett pressed further. "I know alcohol was part of it," he disclosed, "But, what about drugs?"

"No drugs," Chandler insisted simply. The less he said, the better.

"Ok, so, what about mental? Nervous breakdown? Depression? Attempted suicide?"

Chandler fought hard not to respond to the barrage of assumptions leveled at him. Did he already know the answers to these questions? Was he just toying with him? Or did he seriously have no idea about his time in that hospital?

"I'm giving you the opportunity to give your side of this, Bing," Brett told him, irritated. "If **you** don't tell me, I'll get the info elsewhere, and you won't have a chance to tell your side of it."

Smiling for the first time since the interview began, Chandler replied, "You can't get **this** info elsewhere. That's why you're here, on this fishing expedition."

It was starting to become obvious to him, Brett Stanley didn't know all he implied he did.

"You're willing to take that risk, are you?" Brett said with a smirk, trying to regain control of the leverage he held previously.

"Yeah," Chandler returned with a smirk to mirror his. "I am. And this interview is over."

Exiting the booth, he started to walk away as Brett announced, "I get 30 minutes, remember? Get back here, or I'll be after Ms. Geller first thing tomorrow!"

Chandler turned around, but took no steps closer to returning. "What makes you so sure she'll even **talk** to you, let alone divulge any information? What makes you **so** sure she even **knows** anything?"

In an effort not to give away his uncertainty, Brett looked away as he began collecting his things. "Guess you'll just have to wait for the article to come out then, to find out what she knows, or is willing to **divulge**."

Scoffing, Chandler turned on his heel and walked out the door, angry, and not nearly as confident as he seemed seconds before.

**XXX**

There was no attempt to hide his anger as he stormed the studio gate, heading straight for the guard shack. He wasn't with the other two officers that stared back at him as he approached, but that didn't mean he wasn't there, **somewhere**.

"I'm looking for Chandler Bing," Ross announced, his tone setting the two men ill at ease.

"He's not on duty tonight," the first guard spoke up, receiving an odd look from the second officer in return.

Irritated, Ross asked with malice, "Well, when is he **back** on duty?"

The second officer stepped forward. "We're not at liberty to divulge that information."

"With as helpful as you're being," Ross shot back sarcastically, "I'm assuming you wouldn't be willing to give me his home address." Both guards just stared back in response.

"Fine!" Ross spat, "I'll just check back tomorrow then!"

**XXX**

Chandler had only just stepped through the door when Joey bounded out of his bedroom and straight for him.

"I've been worried sick! Where have you been?!" Joey demanded to know, sounding as his words had indicated.

"I just went out to get a malt with Danny Knox after gym, Mom," Chandler answered in falsetto, mocking his friend good-naturedly.

Joey wasn't amused, and wasn't in the mood. "No joking around, Chandler! I've been sitting here, freaking out! What happened?"

Chandler sighed as he threw his jacket on the recliner. "I went to see Stanley."

"What?!" Joey near-shouted. "What the hell for?"

"To stop him from calling and driving everyone nuts," he muttered in response, dropping down onto the recliner, and the jacket that sat atop it. "Sometimes, when you know your death is imminent, it's better to just get it over with, rather than always watching for it, and wondering when."

Seeing the obvious hurt on his friend's face, Joey settled down, sitting on the floor and across from him. "What happened?" he asked gently.

**XXX**

This was the moment she had been dreading. Monica knew Rachel wasn't about to leave her alone for one second, if she sensed she knew something, or was upset with her.

She hated acting in her personal life. Knowing she sucked at it made her hate it all the more. Still, she couldn't avoid her friend and roommate forever.

Friend? Was she even that anymore? Monica wasn't sure, but she was too exhausted to decide anything right then. She just wanted to get through the door, avoid Rachel's questions as much as possible, and get to bed.

Maybe the morning would bring with it some clarity, though she doubted it.

As she stepped through the door, she spotted Rachel, on the phone, showing immediate interest in her entrance.

"Oh, actually, she just walked through the door," Rachel said into the phone, giving Monica an upnod. "One moment, sir."

She put her hand over the mouthpiece as she extended the phone towards Monica. "Brett Stanley?" It was a question as much as a statement, and Monica scowled as she tried to place the name.

"Brett Stanley," she whispered back, reaching out to take the phone. "Who's that?"

Rachel only shrugged as Monica took the call, stating into the receiver, "This is Monica Geller."

**To Be Continued…**


	22. 22

The One With The Biz

Chapter Twenty-Two

By: Jana Lantz

**XXX**

Joey just stared back at his friend, knowing he was hurting, powerless to fix his sadness.

"Do you think he'll do it?" Joey finally asked. "Do you think he'll call Monica?"

"Yeah," Chandler sighed. "I do."

"You don't think Monica will tell him anything," Joey asked, his concern elevated, "Do you?" Chandler only shrugged in response. "She knows **everything**, Chandler. **Everything**."

"I know that, Joey. I'm just gonna have to trust her," he added glumly. "I'll call her," he muttered as he left the chair and started for his room. "Warn her. Past that, is ultimately up to her."

Joey watched his friend disappear behind the closing door, then slumped forward, his head in his hands. All Chandler had done to leave his past behind him was being threatened, and he had no idea how to stop it.

**XXX**

Rachel hovered around her, making the conversation she was having difficult. She felt like she was almost talking in code, keeping her back to Rachel so she couldn't read her expression.

Monica could barely concentrate on what was being said to her, only really able to catch the location of where and when as the man flung information at her faster than she could absorb it.

"Who was that?" Rachel asked when Monica finally hung up the phone.

Monica hesitated before responding; there was no way she was telling Rachel the truth.

"A competitor," she lied. "From another restaurant. Wanting to woo me away from Javu's. I'll hear his offer," she said as she headed for her room, "But I'm happy where I am."

"Wait!" Rachel exclaimed before Monica could vanish, causing her to stop abruptly in her tracks. "We have a slight… situation."

Monica turned, wondering if the problem her friend alluded to was on the same vein of what **she** now faced. "We do?" she asked cautiously.

Rachel nodded. "Ross knows about you and Chandler. He saw you guys kissing, apparently."

Monica tensed. The whole plan and anything and everything around it and concerning it, was turning into a flaming wreck.

"I attempted to do some damage control," Rachel continued, "So I kinda had to tell him about the plan. Just a little bit of it, but, he's pissed. Stormed out of here like his tail was on fire."

Monica shook her head, trying not to show the panic she was feeling. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. Try to defuse it. In the mean time," she added, pointing at her bedroom door, "I need to get some sleep." She once again attempted to find solitude within her room when Rachel called out.

"Wait!"

Monica once again stopped in her tracks.

"Kissing Chandler…" She dangled the question for a moment before continuing. "That's all part of the plan still, right?"

"Rachel, please," Monica said in response, her tone suggesting the answer was obvious. "I'm tired, ok? Can we hash this out for the umpteenth time tomorrow, after I get some sleep?"

She didn't wait for an answer as she made a hasty retreat into her room, before Rachel could stop her yet again.

She stared back at the closed door, already starting to feel the loss of her longtime friend.

**XXX**

The sun rose slowly into the sky. A new day, and with it, a new set of complications.

Monica peeked out her bedroom door only after hearing Rachel enter the bathroom. When she heard the shower turn on seconds later, she knew it was her best chance at escape.

Moving quickly as well as quietly, she headed for her front door, snagging her coat off the hook in the entranceway before leaving the apartment hastily.

She would have to deal with Rachel later, she knew, but she honestly had no idea what she was going to do, or say to her. At that moment, the only thing she felt the need to focus on was enacting a new plan. A plan of her own, in which Brett Stanley held a pivotal role.

**XXX**

The guard shack seemed a mile away as he approached it, spotting his partner as he did; his usual light and airy way was noticeably heavier, and apparent to his co-worker.

"Hey, Bing," the guard said once Chandler was within earshot. "What's the matter? Bad night?"

"Bad life," Chandler mumbled back, heading for his timecard and the clock. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an envelope with his name on, left in such a way that he would be sure to see it when he started his shift. "What's this?" he asked, holding it up for the other officer to see.

"Don't know," he replied with a shrug. "It's been here since graveyard shift."

Chandler stared at it for a moment before tucking it into his jacket pocket and continuing about his business.

"You're not gonna open it?" the guard asked curiously, to which Chandler just shook his head. "Why not?"

"Later," Chandler mumbled, picking up the clipboard to scan the list of known guests that would be arriving at the studio that day. "I'm not in the mood for any more bad news."

"How do you know it's bad news?"

"Cause, that's my luck," Chandler said with a lack of emotion, numbness protecting him from the despair he felt. "Anytime things start to look up, my past comes crashing down, obliterating everything positive in my life."

"Wow," the guard said after a few moments of silence, "Pessimistic much?"

Chandler shook his head. "Just accepting the truth of it all." When he saw a car on the approach, he gestured towards it. "Time to get to work."

He left his co-worker staring after him as he left the guard shack and headed for the vehicle at the gate.

**XXX**

Monica stepped hesitantly through the door of the run-down coffee shop, scanning the patrons, unsure of how to spot the man she was looking for, since she'd never met him before and didn't have so much as a description of him.

Within a few moments, the problem resolved itself as a man in the corner stood and waved her over to the booth he occupied.

"Brett Stanley?" she asked when she was before him, and he nodded, extending his hand toward her.

"Please, call me Brett," he requested of her, shaking her hand first before gesturing for her to join him.

She nodded slightly, almost timidly, taking her seat when he did.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," he began, calling a waitress over with a snap of his fingers. "You want something before we get started? Coffee, maybe?"

Monica agreed with a nod, watching silently as the man across from her took total control of the meeting.

"So, Ms. Geller," he said after clicking the red button on his tape recorder, "Tell me everything you know about Chandler Bing."

The doubt she had started to feel when morning broke dissipated as she began telling her story about the man that had once been so cruel to her, so many years ago.

**To Be Continued**


	23. 23

The One With The Biz

Chapter Twenty-Three

By: Jana Lantz

**XXX**

It was the sixth time he'd tried, and still he couldn't reach her. He slammed down the receiver, harder than he'd meant to, irritated with himself as much as the situation. Knowing his adversary like he did, time would undoubtedly be short. If he didn't reach her before **he** did, God only knew what would happen. He didn't even want to entertain that thought.

It wasn't Monica he distrusted; Brett had a way of extracting information, and destroying people with the news he gathered.

"Problem?" Chandler's co-worker asked, somewhat indifferently as he flipped through the latest issue of Sports Illustrated.

"I'm trying to get ahold of a friend," Chandler explained, "But she's not answering her phone."

His eyes never left the pages in front of him. "The brunette from the other day?"

"Yeah," Chandler answered absently, adding as an afterthought, "She might be at work. I didn't ask about her schedule."

"Try her there, then," the guard suggested casually, attempting to help without actually putting forth any real effort to do so.

"Yeah," Chandler muttered as he patted his jacket pocket, that habit of doing so having died when he'd quit another habit years before. "Hey, can I bum a cigarette?"

The man sharing the guard shack with him looked over in surprise. "You smoke?"

"Used to. Years ago, but I really need one right now."

"Harder to quit, the second time around," he advised, pulling out his box of Marlboros and a lighter.

"Thanks." Chandler accepted the advice, and the cigarette and lighter, returning the lighter after using it.

He took a long drag, closing his eyes as the smoke filled his lungs. The light-headed sensation followed seconds later.

"Thanks," he repeated as he exhaled; he was set to take another hit when he heard someone behind him call his name.

"Bing!"

Chandler spun around, spotting the man on approach a second too late. Before he knew what was happening, before he was even able to react, he was punched square in the face, causing his world to go black.

**XXX**

"This is quite a story," Brett stated as he began collecting his things. "You have every right to tell it, ya'know. He's an ass, and deserves what he gets."

"Yeah," Monica muttered in response, her mind on the act of betrayal she had just committed.

Guilt was setting in, and Brett could sense it. "Don't worry, your name will remain out of it," he offered as he slid out of the booth, standing to leave. "Thanks again for meeting with me."

Quickly, he shook her hand, then turned to leave without waiting for her to respond, or more importantly, object to the article being written.

But her regret surged, demanding she do something more than sit there, watching the man leave.

"Wait!" she called out, moving to catch up with him. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe we should just forget it."

Brett laughed in response. "Oh, it's too late for that," he sneered. "I've been waiting for something juicy on Bing for years! There's no **way** I'm not printing this goldmine!"

Shocked, Monica could only stare back. Just minutes before, he seemed pleasant, almost grateful for the story she had relayed. Now, he was malicious and rude, giving her a glimpse of who the man really was, cementing her idea that telling him all she did was a huge mistake.

"Thanks, kid, for the story of the century!"

With a laugh that could only be described as wicked, he walked away, Monica only able to watch numbly as he did.

**XXX**

"He's coming to!" the guard announced, adrenalin causing him to sound near-panicked.

"Yes, sir," the paramedic humored him, then turned his attention to the man lying on the ground. "Can you tell me your name, sir?"

Chandler groaned, attempting to sit up, but the paramedic stopped him by applying gentle force in direct response.

"I'm gonna need you to lay still, sir," he instructed, then asked again, "Can you tell me your name? Do you know where you are?"

"I'm at work," Chandler mumbled, his voice sounding weird to his own ears. "What's going on?"

"You don't remember what happened?" the medic asked, slipping a blood pressure cuff up the patient's arm, taking vitals.

"I was punched," Chandler finally remembered, answering his own question.

"Sir, do you remember your name?"

"Chandler. Chandler Bing," he said as he began scanning the world around him from his position of flat on his back. In the distance, he saw a man being cuffed and put into a squad car. "Who hit me?" he asked, unable to identify the man from that far away.

"The police will talk with you later about that," the medic informed. "At the hospital."

"The hospital?" Chandler asked, confused. "Is that really necessary? I was **just** punched."

"Studio policy," his co-worker replied. "You have to go. The suits say so."

Chandler sighed, irritated. "Do me a favor, Carl," he asked his partner, "Call my roommate, Joey. Tell him what happened, and that I'm on my way to--"

Before he could finish, the guard from graveyard shift stepped up. "Oh my God! What the hell happened?"

"Some guy punched him out of nowhere!" Carl announced, pointing towards the police car that held the suspect.

"Hey! That's the guy from last night!" the nightshift guard exclaimed, adding, "I left you a letter about him! Did you get it?"

"I didn't read it," Chandler said with a moan. "What was it all about? Did he say he was looking to fight me?"

"No," the guard explained, "But he seemed angry. He got even angrier when we refused to tell him your next shift, or where you lived."

"He wanted to know where I lived?" Chandler asked, shocked. The guard only nodded.

"George," Carl addressed the officer from graveyard shift, "You should go talk to the police right now, about all that." The man nodded in agreement then excused himself, heading for the police officer nearest him.

"Don't worry," Carl said as the medics shifted Chandler onto the gurney, "I'll call Joey and tell him what's going on."

"Thanks," Chandler sighed, shaking his head. "I knew this was going to be a bad day. I could feel it."

**XXX**

Rachel bounded through the door, heading straight for Monica as she stood at the large stove in Javus' kitchen, immersed in her job.

"Monica!" Rachel announced her presence, instantly gaining Monica's attention. "We have a problem!"

Joining Rachel in her state of panic, Monica asked, "What?" She could already feel the adrenaline coursing through her, and she didn't even know what was wrong.

Without waiting for Monica to agree, or even understand why, Rachel grabbed her wrist and started dragging her away from her job. "We gotta go! Chandler's in the hospital, and Ross is in jail!"

The apron she was wearing was off in a flash, and as soon as it was, Monica tossed it to her sous-chef. "What happened?"

"Ross went down to the studio," Rachel explained as they ran through the kitchen, heading for the door and the waiting taxi outside, "And he punched Chandler's lights out!"

**To Be Continued**


	24. 24

The One With The Biz

Chapter Twenty-Four

By: Jana Lantz

**XXX**

She was totally ashamed, so much so, she couldn't make herself walk through the door to face the man on the other side. How **could** she face him after what she'd done? How could she do that to him, knowing all she knew? About his life. About his past.

And why could she forgive him so completely, only until she learned of Rachel's betrayal?

She was angry with Rachel, Monica realized, but that revelation came too late to stop the despicable thing she had done just hours before.

Now, the only thing separating her from his wrath, was a hospital room door, the man behind it in there by her brother's hand.

Appealing as it may have been, there was no way she could consider **not** telling him what she'd done. She had to tell him, come clean about it all, give him at least some warning, before the article hit the papers.

He would hate her. He had every right to. She hated herself. Even in the original plan, she wasn't supposed to destroy him, only humiliate him.

Anything that might've developed between them, friendship, or even more, was in ruins now, and she alone held the blame for that.

Nerves were raw as she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the upcoming conversation, forcing herself to push open the door and face her actions.

**XXX**

Rachel stepped up to the jail cell, seeing Ross in the corner of it, sitting on a plain unpainted bench, holding a piece of cloth with ice in it on his knuckles. He looked miserable, the picture of regret and dishonor.

In all the years she'd known him, she'd never seen him hit anyone, or anything, or even threaten to. Chandler just brought out the worst in him, after what he'd done to Monica, after the depression she went into that scared all who knew her.

"Ross." She barely spoke above a whisper, but it was enough to get his attention.

He didn't stand, and only barely acknowledged her by glancing in her general direction before returning his gaze to the floor, just beyond his laceless shoes.

She sighed, asking softly, "What were you thinking, Ross?"

Several moments went by before he finally shrugged, answering, "I don't know. I guess I wasn't."

"He could sue you, ya'know," she told him, her tone implying that her statement was of great importance. And to her, it was, but not to him.

"I don't care about that," he shot back quietly. "I had to do something! I wont let him hurt her again!"

It spoke volumes, that he would be willing to forfeit his very freedoms, rather than see his only sibling suffer a broken heart.

"And you honestly thought that assaulting him was the way to prevent that?"

"I told you," he snipped, "I wasn't thinking!"

"And **I** told you yesterday," she reminded him, "She's **toying** with him! He's not going to hurt her! **He's** the one that's going to get hurt!"

"Yeah, right," he scoffed, asking, "And whose bright idea was this, anyway?"

**XXX**

Opening his eyes when he heard the door swish open, Chandler smiled when he saw who was entering.

"Monica! Hi!"

He sounded so happy to see her, and it just served to push the knife of guilt further into Monica's guts.

She forced a smile onto her face, trying to hide her shame for a few moments longer. Absolute annihilation could wait a few more minutes.

"You got pretty messed up," she sighed as she approached his bed, looking him over and surveying the damage.

His eye was bruised and swollen, his nose had a bandage on it that only partly hid the bruising beneath it, and his lip was fat and split.

"I'd say, you should see the other guy," he tried for a joke, "But I barely saw it coming."

"I'm so sorry," she offered as tears finally brimmed and broke free. "So **so** sorry."

He shook his head in response. "This isn't your fault, Monica. And it isn't Ross' either," he added nobly. "He was just protecting his little sister from the asshole."

"Don't do that," she asked of him, turning her back and attempting to collect herself.

"Do what?" he asked, confused.

"Don't put yourself down," she told him, "And don't be decent. You have the right to be mad."

"I'm not mad though," he replied honestly. "I understand he was just trying to **save** you from me."

"I don't need saving," she snipped, angry with herself as much as her brother. "If anyone needs saving, it's **you** from **me**!"

Chandler laughed, in the dark for the moment. But that was about to change. "What are you talking about?"

"I did something terrible," she admitted, and the tone she used, accompanied by the expression she wore made the smile drop from Chandler's face in an instant.

"I had a meeting today," she continued, her heart climbing into her throat, "With Brett Stanley."

That man's name on her lips made Chandler instantly tense, clenching his jaw, the physical pain a welcome sensation as it helped drown out the emotional pain.

"I was angry," she hurried on to explain. "My mind was clouded by that. It didn't really dawn on me until after, what I was doing. I asked him not to print the story, but he just laughed at me."

He looked away from her, almost as if shunning her, then asked softly, "What did you tell him?"

"Everything," she admitted, shame burning her cheeks, her tears like acid upon them.

"So, when you said you could forgive me," he choked out through anger and devastation, "It was a lie." It was a statement, not a question.

"No," she sniffed, swiping the salty wetness from her face. "Not exactly."

He dared to look at her once again. "Not exactly?" he questioned irately. "Then **what** exactly? Why did you meet with the one man who has been out to destroy me for all of my adult life?"

She drew in a shaky breath, trying to settle her nerves and gain courage to continue.

"Chandler," she stuttered, "I know about you and Rachel."

**To Be Continued**


	25. 25

The One With The Biz

Chapter Twenty-Five

By: Jana Lantz

**XXX**

Chandler's anger seemed to melt slightly as Monica's words hit the discomfited air. Even as he contemplated the exact meaning of her admission, he knew deep down what she was saying.

A moment of weakness over a decade ago, something he barely remembered, that at the time meant little to nothing to him, had caused yet another great pain to be unleashed. Would his past mistakes ever cease to hurt those around him?

Neither confessing nor denying anything for the moment, he asked cautiously, "What do you mean?"

Caught up in her own emotions and guilt, she didn't even think to challenge the question he was asking. She just blurted out the answer. "I know you and Rachel had a 'thing', back during the movie shoot."

"You didn't know **before**?" he asked, his anger slipping briefly. "I figured Rachel would've told you."

"No," she told him, wrapping her arms around herself protectively, "She didn't tell me. Back then, or now."

He arched his brow incredulously. "Then, how did you find out about it?"

"That's not important," she stated matter-of-factly. There was no way she was ratting Phoebe out. She had done enough damage in that realm.

"Monica," he sighed, sympathetic to how she was feeling despite his own chaotic emotions, "I wasn't cheating on you with Rachel. **We** weren't dating then! And, besides, nothing really happened."

Guardedly, she asked, "Care to explain that?"

"We really only had one rendezvous. If I'm remembering correctly, we were in her trailer, we had an hour to kill, and, I don't know, I don't really remember what was said or whatever, but we just, started kissing. I wasn't really **in** to Rachel, but being a horny teenager, I just went with it."

"She took off her top," he struggled to remember, "And her bra," he added after pause, "But that's as far as it went."

She scowled back at him. "You just **stopped**? Just like that?"

"No," he explained, "Some blond walked in and it sorta, I don't know, sobered us up. I excused myself and left, she got herself put back together, and we never spoke of it again. I assumed she would've told you. You guys were always close as friends."

"I always thought so, too," she muttered sadly, new tears falling.

"Don't lose a friendship over this," he advised her. "Over **me**. I'm not worth it."

"She knew how I felt about you," she announced, the statement awkward under the circumstances. "If she **really** cared about me--"

"Monica," he interrupted her, "People make mistakes. We were teenagers at the time. Teenagers do stupid things."

"She could've at least **told** me about it!" she snapped back, and it was then that Chandler realized, she was more mad and hurt by Rachel's involvement in the brief encounter.

"I don't know why she didn't. Maybe she was trying to spare your feelings," he offered. "Maybe she was ashamed," he added, and that brought Monica's thoughts back to **her** shame. What **she** had done. "You'll have to ask **her** about that."

"It was all about timing," she tried again to explain, changing the subject abruptly. "Earlier today… with Brett," she clarified. "I had just learned of you and Rachel, and then I get home, and there's a phone call for me, and I pick it up, and it's this Brett guy."

"He told me he was doing an article, a kind of 'where are they now' thing, and who better to interview than the co-star of one of his top-grossing films? He didn't say he was looking for dirt. But," she admitted tentatively, "I did agree to meet with him cause **I** was looking to spread some."

"The Gellers are more ruthless than I thought," he muttered, disappointed.

"You have every right to hate me," she told him, almost as if giving him permission. "**And** my brother. I'm not looking for forgiveness; I just came by to apologize. And warn you. I don't know what good it'll do, but I felt I owed you **at least** that much."

"Funny thing is, I tried all day, before the assault, to warn **you**. Brett Stanley is a low-life snake, and I didn't want you to be suckered in by his false front and phony charm, just to be cornered later. Guess you both had more in common than I thought," he added callously.

She stood there in tears, unable to respond. There was nothing more she **could** say. There was no excuse for what she'd done. It didn't matter what he had done to her. It didn't matter that Rachel 'made out' with him. If it were yesterday, as opposed to a decade ago, it still wouldn't matter. What she did was wrong, and she knew in her heart, she would give anything she had to fix the wrong she had committed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she hung her head, but he said nothing in return.

Just then, the door flew open, taking them both by surprise.

"Dude! I just got word!" Joey rushed into the room, past Monica without even really seeing her, oblivious to the tension that permeated the small space. "What happened? That Carl guy said you were beat up!"

"Ross happened," Chandler exclaimed in a similar tone of voice, caught up in his friend's distress over the situation. "And he didn't 'beat me up', he just punched me."

"**Just** punched you?" he asked, enraged. "What the hell for?"

Chandler shrugged, muttering, "He was protecting his little sister, I suppose."

It was then that he realized, Monica was no longer in the room.

"Where's she go?" Chandler asked, and Joey spun around, seeing the same empty room as his injured friend. "Did you see her leave?"

"Monica?" Joey asked, then shook his head. "No. I didn't see her leave. Why?" he questioned, finally aware of the stress that consumed the air around them. "What's going on?"

"She spoke with Brett," he told him, wincing when Joey gasped dramatically.

"You're kidding!" he exclaimed, to which Chandler just shook his head. "What did she tell him?"

"Everything, apparently."

"Oh my God!" Joey yelled, almost appearing as if he might go running out the door after her, but instead he turned to face his friend again. "How could she **do** that!? After all you've been through!? After she **claimed** to forgive you!?"

"Yeah, well, guess she was more upset than she realized," he offered, defeated.

"Who cares!" Joey shot back angrily. "She had no right!"

"I had no right to do the things I did to her back then," he reminded.

"Back **then**, you had reasons for what you did!"

"Reasons, maybe, but no excuses. Just like Monica now."

Joey settled some, his voice calmer than before. "So, you're just gonna sit there and take it, huh? You're not going to do anything about it?"

Feeling despondent, he said, "There's nothing **to** do. Brett has his information… there's no stopping the story now."

"What about Monica?" Joey asked carefully.

Chandler shook his head, sighing. It was several silent moments later before he muttered, "There's nothing to do **there**, either. She hates me. End of story."


	26. 26

The One With The Biz

Chapter Twenty-Six

By: Jana Lantz

**XXX**

It was almost like old times, only the subjects seemed a little heavier than before. The three friends sat around the livingroom as Monica busied herself in the kitchen, but there was no casual topic of conversation passing lightly through the room. All attention instead was on the letter Ross held in his hands.

Reading through it at least twice, to be sure he fully understood everything contained within its pages, he came to the same conclusion each and every time.

"I can't believe he dropped the charges," Ross stated, shaking the pages of the letter gently for emphasis.

"I told you," Monica said without leaving her current task of cooking dinner at the stove, "He's not the man he used to be."

Ross hung his head. "I'm sorry I ruined your chance with him."

"**You** didn't," Monica assured him with slight exasperation, "I did."

"Yeah, well, it's kinda my fault too," Rachel added. "I'm **so** sorry I didn't tell you before, about me and Chandler."

"That doesn't matter now," Monica muttered, ready to end the conversation before she started crying. Again. "What's done is done."

**XXX**

Joey entered the apartment cautiously, like a wild animal in strange surroundings, viewing the landscape for prey or predator.

Being around Chandler as of late proved to be a volatile situation at best. Depression had set in. Bad. And Joey never knew from day to day, whether he could expect yelling or crying from his friend.

Upon hearing the toilet flush, Joey knew Chandler would be in the livingroom within seconds. He double-checked his inner jacket pocket for its contents, then readied himself as he heard the bathroom door open.

He padded across the floor, still in his pajamas and robe, as he was everyday **all** day when he wasn't at work. Unshaven, hair a mess; he barely acknowledged Joey as he headed for his recliner and dropped into it.

"Hey, Chandler," Joey greeted him cheerfully, but only received a groan in response. He sighed, taking a seat beside him in his matching recliner. "Look, Chandler, you've gotta snap out of this!"

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," Chandler snipped sarcastically.

"If you're so miserable without her, **call** her!" Joey advised, forgoing his piece of news for the moment.

"I **can't** call her, Joe. She hates me. If getting rejected **once** hurts **this** bad, twice is bound to kill me. Besides," he added, "This isn't **just** about Monica," he informed, adding softly, "The article should be coming out soon."

Joey fidgeted, stammering to find the right words. "Yeah, um, speaking of that-- I have something here I think you should read."

Curiously, and a bit cautiously, Chandler looked over at his friend. "What?"

Joey produced a tabloid newspaper from inside his jacket. "I got an advance copy of the article Brett wrote."

Frowning, Chandler just stared at the floor before finally muttering, "No thanks."

"Dude," Joey announced, smacking Chandler on the chest with the newspaper he still held, "You **need** to read this!"

"Why?" Chandler shot back, irritated. "Cause I don't feel enough like crap at the moment?"

"I think you'll be surprised," Joey said simply, then tossed the paper onto his friend's lap. "Do yourself a favor. Read the article." With that he walked away, heading for his bedroom, leaving Chandler alone to decide what to do.

**XXX**

Conversation at the dinner table was sparse, no one quite knowing what to say. Since no subject seemed to be appropriate, they opted to eat in silence. It wasn't until after dinner, until they all began migrating to the livingroom with coffee, tea, and/or dessert, that Phoebe broached a previously excluded topic of conversation.

"I can't believe you got that jack-ass to cut back that article," Phoebe said as she took a seat on the sofa.

Rachel hesitated before responding, watching to see if Monica would be upset over the new subject. Seemingly indifferent to it, Rachel then replied, "He wasn't so hard to break. You just have to know which strings to pull."

"And which favors to call in," Ross added.

"It was worth it," Rachel insisted. "I helped create the problem. It was the least I could do."

"With as hell-bent as he was to dish dirt," Phoebe interjected, "You wouldn't think the man would have so many skeletons in his closet."

"It was bound to catch up with him," Monica agreed, jumping into the conversation. "You know what they say, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

"Yeah, and people who deal drugs should be a little more careful about where and with whom they do business," Ross added, shaking his head in disapproval of a man he'd never met.

"Do you think after Chandler reads the article, he'll come around?" Phoebe asked, gauging her friend's response carefully.

Monica shook her head solemnly. "He hates me now, and he has every right to. Just cause Rachel was able to blackmail the man into omitting all the confidential stuff I told him doesn't change the fact that I went down there and blabbed it all in the first place."

"Any chance he'll just understand?" Ross asked cautiously.

"Understand what?" Monica snipped, frustrated with the questions being asked. "That a supposed friend got a burr up her ass one day and tattled all the deepest darkest secrets he'd ever shared? Would you?"

Her brother didn't answer, instead, he asked a new question. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Sighing, she stood and collected the few dishes that speckled the coffee table. "It's irrelevant now. How I feel, who did what to whom- none of that matters anymore."

After setting the cups and plates in the sink, she remained, her back to her friends, leaning on the counter for support. "Could we **please** just change the subject?"

Rachel, Ross, and Phoebe shared looks for a moment, knowing their friend and sibling was hurting, but incapable of doing anything to change it.

With a shrug, Phoebe reluctantly changed the subject, all pretending they didn't see Monica slump a little. They knew she was crying, but rather than bring attention to it, they opted for giving her the space she obviously wanted.

**XXX**

Cautiously, Joey exited his room, peeking around the back of the recliner Chandler was still occupying. Even from a distance, he could see that he was reading the article. He smiled to himself, just slightly, then started for the kitchen, purportedly uninterested.

Chandler glanced up at the sign of movement, but said nothing as he returned his eyes to the paper. Almost in shock, he continued through the story, scanning for the destruction that seemed to be missing from the pages.

"I don't understand," Chandler finally muttered, skimming through again, checking page numbers to see if some of the paper was missing somehow. "Why did he do this? Why didn't he slaughter me?"

Joey turned, setting the drink he had just retrieved from the fridge onto the counter, then leaning against the same. "I'd like to say that he grew a conscience, but we both know how likely **that** is."

"Then," Chandler asked, still perplexed, "What **did** happen?"

"He wouldn't tell me," Joey replied, taking a swig of his soda.

"You went to see him?" Chandler inquired, to which Joey nodded his head. "Why?"

"Honestly?" he asked, and Chandler nodded once. "I was going to try and get him to see reason, or maybe threaten him," he added. "I don't know exactly **what** I was hoping to accomplish, but when I got there, it all ended up being a moo point anyway."

Chandler couldn't help but smile. "Moot point, Joey. Moo is the sound a cow makes."

"Whatever," Joey muttered dismissively. "Point is, someone else apparently already got to him. Blackmailed him, I think."

"How do you know?"

"Cause he told me I was too late. That someone else had gotten to him weeks ago, and if it wasn't for him wanting to save his own skin, yours would be stripped."

"Colorful," Chandler muttered sarcastically, closing the pages and rolling up the paper. "Who do you think the 'someone' was?"

"Not sure," Joey replied, hiding a hint of a smile as he took another sip of his drink. "Monica, maybe?" he suggested mischievously, wanting nothing more than to give Chandler hope again. He just prayed it wasn't false hope.

It was clear he was thinking it over, but all too quickly, he stood, shaking his head and dropping the tabloid on his vacated chair. "Couldn't have been," he stated assertively. "Why would she? It doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense!" Joey shot back, rounding the corner into the livingroom and grabbing the discarded paper off the recliner. "How many times did you say she said she was sorry? She was remorseful, Chandler!"

"Remorseful or not, she wouldn't have been able to get Brett Stanley to back away from a story."

"She could if she had dirt on **him**!"

Chandler stared back at his friend for a moment, letting all he was implying sink in. "Why would she risk it? For **me**?"

"Maybe because she likes you?" Joey suggested, adding, "You know, on top of the remorseful thing."

"I doubt it," Chandler returned despondently. "I hurt her **bad**, reasons or not."

"So, that's it?" Joey asked. "You're not even going to try?"

"Try what?"

"To talk to her! To see if you guys can move **past** this!"

He shook his head. "No, Joe, I'm not. Too much has been said and done," he added as he headed for his room. "Subject closed."

**XXX**

--Chandler hurried through the semi-busy office with purpose, his mind fixed on what he was about to do. Spotting him in the distance, at a desk near the back of the room, he approached with both apprehension and determination. It took several moments for the man he stood in front of to even acknowledge his presence.

"What are you doing here, Bing?"

"Why, Stanley?" was all Chandler said, and the man made a scoffing sound as he continued with whatever it was he was doing.

"What are you talking about?" Brett asked, sounding irritated.

"The article. You cut it back. Why?"

"Like I told your little boyfriend," he sneered, "It was your hide or mine. I did what I had to do."

"Blackmail," Chandler muttered, digging his hands deep into his pockets, his shoulders tense around his neck. "Who?"

"Who blackmailed me?" Brett asked, then laughed. "You mean you don't know?"

Chandler recoiled at the sound of the man's near-glee. "How could I?"

Brett laughed again. "I figured you were behind it."

"No," Chandler replied, annoyed with the circles the conversation was going in. "Who?" he asked again, taking a step forward to show he wasn't going to back down until he got the answer he came for.

"I'm not at liberty to say," he stated coolly, placing the papers he had been sifting through into a file folder and tapping it on the desk to straighten them. "If you'll excuse me," he said as he finally initiated eye contact with his nemesis, "I have far more important people to talk to today."

It was only after Brett took several steps away that Chandler spoke again. "I have to know something, Stanley," he said, and Brett stopped his departure short.

"And what's that, Bing?"

"Why are you so hell-bent on destroying me? What did I ever do to you?"

"You really don't know, do you?" Brett asked, turning to face him.

"I really don't," Chandler answered, his heart picking up its pace just slightly with the idea that he was finally going to have a decades-old question answered.

"Let's take a trip down memory lane, shall we?" Brett said as he moved back to his desk, immediately leaning on it upon reaching it. "Does the name Melissa Cambridge mean anything to you?"

Chandler scowled for a moment, until the name rang a bell inside his brain. "From 'To The Dance'?"

"That's right," Brett shot back. "Your co-star! Or should I say, your victim! She was devastated, after what you said to her! After how you treated her! It took her years, before she could even watch the movie she starred in, without crying!"

Chandler winced. More pain caused, by his doing. "What did I say to her? What did I do?" he asked softly, guilt demanding a respectful tone.

"You don't even remember?" he asked bitingly. "Typical," he huffed, prepared to leave again.

"No, really," Chandler said as he reached out and touched the man's arm, silently asking him not to walk away.

"You really want to know?" Brett asked, and Chandler nodded solemnly. "You called her fat! And believe me, she wasn't! You called her homely, and a bucked-tooth beaver! You tripped her! She landed face down in the mud! While in wardrobe! It took hours to get her cleaned up and the dress washed! Then you berated her for being late to the set!"

The memory slowly inched into Chandler's consciousness, redness from shame coloring his face. "I was 15," he replied, not as an excuse, but in explanation. "I was going through some really bad times. I was a horrible person then. I've changed," he added, tears stinging the back of his eyes.

"Whatever," Brett waved dismissively. "I don't care about your problems, then **or** now."

Chandler nodded before asking, "Who was she to you?"

"My wife's daughter, from a previous marriage," he answered, rounding his desk and pulling open one of the drawers. "Here," he said, tossing something at Chandler, who barely caught it in time, saving it from falling to the floor.

"A floppy disc?" Chandler asked, confused. "What is this?"

"The original story I wrote, before your friend put the kybosh on it," he told him, slamming his desk drawer closed before stepping out from behind it. "Don't worry, it's the only copy."

"Why are you giving this to me?"

Brett shrugged. "I have no use for it. Now," he added, picking up his manila folder from off the desk once again, "If you'll excuse me, I'm late for an appointment." He only managed to take three steps away before he stopped and turned around. "The blackmailer," he told him, "Was Rachel Green."

Brett Stanley then marched away, leaving a bewildered Chandler in his wake. His eyes leaving the man's retreating form, Chandler looked down at the item clutched in his hand. What painful words did the disc contain? Stories about his life. About his past mistakes and indiscretions. Seeing them was incomprehensible, but not seeing was even more so. Resolved, he slipped the disc into his pocket and walked through the office towards the exit, heading for home.

X 

--Chandler stared at the screen of his laptop computer, the final words blurring as tears pooled, then slipped away and down his cheeks. Even as Joey entered the apartment, his attention did not divert.

Concern immediately assaulted Joey as he looked over at his friend. "What are you doing?" he asked, stopping dead in the doorway. "Why are you crying?"

Finally swiping at the wet on his face, Chandler muttered as he pointed at the computer in front of him, "The original article he wrote, before he was blackmailed into cutting it back."

Joey dropped his keys on the entrance table before shutting the door and stepping closer to the counter Chandler was seated at. "How did you get it?"

"Stanley gave it to me," he answered, inching off the stool a second later. "Read it," he told him, then walked away towards his room.

Almost hesitantly, Joey approached the seat Chandler had just vacated, staring at Chandler's now-closed bedroom door before sitting. Scrolling up, he began reading from the beginning.

--Chandler plopped down on his bed, his hands covering his face as he let out an anguished sigh. So many mistakes, past and present. So many things he would take back, and unsay, if he could. Unable to change the past, he decided on the next best thing. He might not be able to undo all he'd done, but he could certainly make amends.

Snagging the phone off his bedside table, he clicked it on and upon hearing the dial tone, punched in the number by heart.

"Main gate guard station, please," he asked of the operator, who thanked him and patched him through. "Carl? Chandler. Look, I need a favor, if it's at all possible. – Didn't you say once that your brother-in-law was an FBI agent? – Yeah? Good. Ok. Look, um, if it's possible, could he get a phone number or address of someone for me? – It's someone I used to know, a million years and lifetimes ago. – Melissa Cambridge. – Yeah, call me back. Thanks."

--Joey entered Chandler's room after offering an obligatory knock first. At the sound, Chandler removed his arm from off his face as it was draped over his eyes; he had been crying, Joey realized immediately.

"Whoa," Joey said in reference to the article he had just finished reading, and Chandler nodded slightly in response. "Why did she say 'everything'?"

"I don't know," Chandler muttered. "Maybe he didn't print everything she'd said to him," he offered in suggestion.

"Or maybe she didn't tell him everything she knows," Joey returned enthusiastically. "Dude, you **gotta** talk to her!"

Chandler shook his head slowly. "I wouldn't even know what to say."

Joey sighed. "Start with, what exactly **did** you tell Brett Stanley?"

**X**

--Ten digits had never seemed so daunting. Chandler held the paper in his hands, his eyes eerily locked on its contents. As painful as it was bound to be, he owed it to her. Even though the memory of her grief was vague to him, he owed it to her.

Shakily, he dialed each number carefully, listening to the rings before a voice finally interrupted them.

"Hello?" the voice asked of him, and he swallowed hard before replying.

"Hi, um, can I speak with Melissa, please?"

"Speaking," she chirped happily.

With a nervous chuckle, he asked, "Ready for a blast from your past?"

Her tone took on a more serious quality. "Ok. Who is this?"

He gulped in air before near-whispering, "Chandler Bing."

There was a long pause that seemed to drag on forever, until he heard her chuckle.

"Oh my God! It's been what? Seventeen years?"

She almost seemed glad to hear from him, Chandler realized, surprising him. "Yeah, something like that," he answered, adding, "How are you?"

"I'm good! Married ten years now, two kids, a boy and a girl. I'm a school teacher, for children with special needs. How are you?"

"I'm a security guard," he replied. "No wife or kids, but I'm hoping someday. Look, Melissa, there is a reason I've tracked you down."

"There is?" she asked, sounding curious and maybe even a little confused.

"Yeah," he admitted, taking a deep breath to settle his nerves. "I had a talk with your stepdad today."

She laughed. "A talk or a yell?"

Smiling, Chandler stated softly, "He has every right to yell at me. I did a horrible thing to someone he loves very much." Off her silence, he continued. "Melissa, I called today, to apologize to you. I was horrible to you- I was a horrible person back then, and did a lot of things, and said a lot of things I am now very ashamed of. You don't have to forgive me, but I wanted to tell you how very sorry I am, for the way I treated you."

"Chandler," she sighed, "That was almost two decades ago. We were just kids! I got over it," she assured him, releasing him from his guilt. "My stepfather on the other hand," she muttered, then laughed again. "That man can hold a grudge!"

Chandler laughed in spite of his tumultuous emotions. "I've noticed."

"Well, I'm sorry for any trouble he's caused," she apologized with all sincerity.

"I deserve it," he returned soberly, "But thanks."

"Listen," she then said, almost abruptly, "I have to go. I promised the kids I'd take them to the park, and now every eye in the house is on me, waiting for me to get in gear." She laughed, and Chandler smiled at how happy with her life she seemed to be.

"Of course," he agreed easily, adding, "It was good talking with you."

"You too, Chandler," she replied. "Take care."

"You too." He heard the phone click dead as she hung up, and he pushed the off button as soon as he did.

"One down," he sighed as he set the cordless phone back on its base, "One to go."

**XXX**

--Pacing outside of her apartment, Chandler struggled to gather his courage to knock on her door. Joey had made it all seem so simple, but the truth of the matter was, it was far from it. Possible scenarios for how the evening could go screamed inside his brain, running the gamut from her slapping him and kicking him out, to him holding her achingly close in his arms.

A shiver worked through his body, down to his very soul as he allowed himself to linger over that thought.

Holding her in his arms, forgiving each other, moving past all of it and maybe loving each other. He wanted that, more than anything else. More than the answers to his burning questions.

It was time. Sink or swim. Run away like a coward or be a man and face his fears. He chose the latter, stepping up to her door, poised at the ready. His hand and arm seemed to be in conflict with him, and the knock that followed reflected that.

The door swung open, revealing her surprised expression, and he looked away as he snuck his hands in his pants pockets, hiding his sweaty palms from her.

"Chandler," she whispered, "What are you doing here?"

He stuttered his reply. "Um, I was wondering, maybe, if you're not busy, if we could, talk."

Glancing back into her apartment briefly, she hooked her finger in the general direction of behind her as she told him, "My friends are kinda over."

"We were just on our way out," Phoebe announced, pushing off the couch. Ross and Rachel followed suit a second later.

Phoebe was the first one out the door, and as she passed by him on the way to the stairs, she smiled at him.

Rachel was right behind her, offering him a slight nod that accompanied an even slighter smirk. As she stepped through the door, Chandler whispered her name, and she halted instantly at the sound.

"Thank you," he muttered softly, and Rachel knew instantly why he'd said it. He was referring to the blackmail of Brett Stanley.

"You're welcome," she told him, then moved away and headed for a waiting Phoebe.

Ross was next, and Chandler felt himself wince as he made eye contact with the man that had assaulted him not so long ago.

"Thank you for not filing charges," Ross said before apologizing. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"I'm sorry I gave you a reason to," Chandler replied, and Ross chuckled and shook his head.

"My sister was right," he told Chandler, "You are **annoyingly** noble."

"Hey," Monica defended herself, "I never said annoying!"

Ross and Chandler smiled at one another for a brief moment, before Ross spoke again. "Don't hurt her," he warned, and the smile dropped from both of the men's faces.

"I don't plan to," Chandler insisted respectfully.

Ross nodded. "I believe you."

Monica watched her friends and brother disappear around the corner before inviting Chandler in.

"You wanted to talk?" she asked him, and he sighed as he nodded. "What about?" She immediately felt stupid for asking such an idiotic question, but she didn't know where else to begin.

"Why did you say 'everything'?" he asked her, almost abruptly, catching her slightly off guard.

She scowled. "What do you mean?"

"When you said you told Brett Stanley 'everything'," he attempted to clarify, "Why did you tell me that?"

Her scowl deepened. "Because I thought you had the right to know that I had. What I had done."

"No," he said with a shake of his head, "I **mean**, you didn't tell him everything, so why did you say you did?"

"Chandler," she sighed, "I don't understand what you're saying."

Frustrated, Chandler changed his approach. "Let's try this from a different angle," he suggested. "What **exactly** did you tell him?"

Gesturing to the couch, they both took a seat before she began to answer his question.

"I told him about your treatment of me, after the movie shoot. I told him about you and Rachel, though he didn't seem to care at all about that."

"I told him your parents divorce really messed you up," she continued, "And that it triggered your nasty disposition. I told him your stint in rehab changed you-"

"But you didn't tell him about the attempted rape," he interjected, almost interrupting. "You didn't tell him **why** I was in rehab."

She stared back for a moment before eventually admitting, "No, I guess I didn't. Does it matter?"

"It might," he said quietly, then asked, "Why didn't you?"

She shrugged. "Guilt? Conscience? I wanted to hurt you, like you hurt me. Like Rachel hurt me. But when the time came, something held me back from giving details."

"Has too much been said and done?" he asked her. "Is there any way we can move past this?"

"I don't see how," she whispered, looking away. "Even if you could forgive me for **this**, it's not the only thing I've done."

Confusion etched into his expression. "What do you mean?"

"Remember when I first told you my name was Regina Philangie? There was a reason for it," she admitted sadly. "It was part of a plan. I was drunk when I agreed to it, but I still agreed to it."

Sighing, he leaned back against the couch cushions, asking, "And what was the plan exactly?"

"To get you to fall in love with me, so I could shoot you down publicly, and humiliate you like you did me."

He ran his hand over his face, then through his hair before asking, "So, you never actually had feelings for me?"

"No, I **did**," she explained, "That's why I agreed to go along with the plan."

"You lost me," he said with a furrowed brow.

"If I didn't agree to it," she told him, "They never would have let me see you."

"And by 'they', I'm assuming we mean your brother and your friends."

"My brother didn't know," she answered. "Just Rachel and Phoebe."

"And the plan was cooked up by?"

"Rachel," she sighed.

"And you went along with it, cause you wanted to see me?" he asked, and she nodded as she looked down at her lap. "Why?"

"Don't make me answer that," she requested of him, her voice soft and pained.

"Were you planning on going through with it?" he asked, glossing over her avoidance of the last question. "Were you planning on humiliating me?"

"No," she answered. "I didn't want revenge, till I learned about you and Rachel."

"So, Brett Stanley wasn't part of the plan?"

She shook her head. "He just happened to call at exactly the right time. Or, better put, **wrong** time."

Nodding, he paused for a moment before asking, "And what would you say, if I told you, I could forgive you? For all of it."

"Why would you?" she asked, surprised. "What I did was so cold and calculated. And cruel."

"But you didn't see any of it through," he reminded. "Not really."

"Not really?" she scoffed. "I met with Brett Stanley with the sole purpose of destroying you!"

"But you didn't! You stopped yourself! Probably for the same reason you agreed to the plan in the first place," he added, watching her reaction carefully.

The familiar rush colored her cheeks as she started to fidget. He knew.

"Why did you go along with the plan, Monica?" he asked again, his tone soft and compassionate.

She could have lied, to save herself potential pain and embarrassment, but there had been enough of that between them. From both of them. From him, back **then**, from her now.

"You're under my skin," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "And no matter what I do, I can't get you out of my heart. I've lost my soul to you," she admitted as the tears that threatened to fall did, streaking down her face, "And it scares me."

Moving to sit beside her, he gathered her into his arms before telling her, "You don't need to be scared. My soul is lost to you, too."

His words and embrace only caused her to cry harder, from the extreme emotion of it all.

"How did this become such a mess?" she asked, her voice strained.

"Years of baggage, hurtful words that should have never been said, plans of revenge, and lies," he answered, stroking her hair in a consoling manner.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked after nodding in agreement to all he just said.

"Where do you **want** to go?" he answered with a question of his own.

"I want to go into my bedroom with you," she told him, meeting his eyes when he pulled away slightly.

His expression asked the question before he even spoke. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, taking his hand in hers and standing. "I'm tired of wasting time and I'm tired of playing games."

Following her lead, he stood, allowing her to guide him towards her room.

Such a long and winding road, full of trials and tragedy, to get to the same destination others find in a fraction of the time, a mile down the way, on smooth and forgiving pavement.

Is love ever truly appreciated, when it's achieved without effort? Can a relationship flourish and last, when it's beginning is wrought with animosity, heartache, and regret?

To forgive and forget one's past can be difficult, but certainly not impossible. Former child stars Chandler Bing and Monica Geller discovered that as they began and continued their journey together, in sickness and in health, all the days of their lives.

**THE END**

Author's note:

Ok, this chapter is way longer than the rest of the chapters in this story, and I could have broken it up into at least 2 if not 3 chapters, but you guys have been waiting for a conclusion on this one for a long time, so I decided to just post it all and be done with it.

See how nice I am? So, guess what, let's see those reviews as a sign of gratitude, eh?

Now, onto new business…

I have 2 new stories in concept: one is Mondler, one is Chanoey. I have also been trying to contact an author who has a story that hasn't been updated in 3 years, to see if I could get permission to continue and complete it. No luck so far, but I'm really hoping. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

I also have a 'Caroline in the City' story that I've been working on. I've been writing it in a spiral bound notebook, and in that format it is over 400 pages. When I get it typed onto the computer, it will probably shrink by about half. Still, by the end of it, it's probably going to be between 250 and 300 pages. Very pleased with this story… it's the story that brought my muse back to me. Now I can't **STOP** writing, LOL!

Ok, so, let me know what we think of the end here, and keep an eye out for new stuff from me soon!

MTLBYAKY


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